New Competition
by Wendy Vermonter
Summary: James and Artemus meet two mysterious women while investigating an international customs business. Will these two women become friends or foes or just add complications to their work. And are these women really who they say they are? This story begins at the end of Train Wreck but can be read as a stand alone story. The agents are on light duty while recovering from injuries.
1. Chapter 1

New Competition

"Are you sure you feel up to it, James," Melinda asked, as Jim took her hand. "You are both supposed to be resting, you know." She stood slowly to stand next to him. Jim was dressed in his tuxedo, the white dress shirt and black suit fitting his frame perfectly. The bruises on his face were fading, the sore purples and reds now a pale yellowish. He slipped his arm around her slim waist. "You should be resting your knees. Colonel Richmond would be very upset with me if I wore you out."

"I thought Colonel Richmond said rest and relaxation," Jim smiled, leaning slightly over her face, looking into her eyes. "And no one ever got injured dancing a waltz." The slim girl leaned against his side, her eyes fixed on his, as she smiled up at him. They stood close together in the crowded dance hall under the flickering candlelight of the multiple chandeliers.

"Besides we have already returned to duty," Artie said, grinning at the group of friends across the table, as his partner turned to look down at him. "Low level work, nothing strenuous of course."

"Of course," Laura said, nodding, sitting next to him, "He wouldn't want anything to happen to his two favorite agents." Everyone laughed except Steve, who was sitting on the other side of the table with Marlita.

"How did you two get to be the favorite's anyway," Steve said, protesting. "Hasn't Jeremy been there the longest?" He looked between Laura and Melinda.

"It's Artie's wonderful reports he writes," Jim said, slapping a hand on his partner's shoulder. "The Colonel just loves to read them. He has said, on more than one occasion, that he should have them published into novels as true crime stories."

"Fact is often stranger than fiction," Artie said as he refilled Laura's glass with champagne. "But I am not telling you ladies anything you don't already know. You don't just type our reports, you type everyone's reports. You know as much as Colonel Richmond as to what goes on; more than the individual agents."

"That's true," Laura said, "we know all the dirt. But no one else has the crazy experiences that you two do. You seem to be sent out into the strangest mysteries or after the most dangerous criminals. Thankfully I don't have to type reports one chapter at a time. I get everything at the end when I know you two are both back safely in Washington."

"Maybe I should write my reports in chapters," Artie said, "and leave them off at cliffhangers." Jim, still standing beside him, made a low whistle as Artie continued in a deep voice, "…as Jim disappeared in the dark and foreboding mansion…could his brave partner find him in time?" The girls burst into hysterical laughter as Steve rolled his eyes.

Jim shook his head, "go ahead, Artie," he laughed, "send your next report to Richmond with cliffhangers. He would hang us." He turned to Melinda, "too much talking and not enough dancing." He led her to the dance floor and they quickly disappeared with the other couples on the crowded wooden surface. The music was performed by a small orchestra playing new, quicker music for dancing. Women spun across the dance floor in wide-skirted dresses that sparkled in the candle light, with hair piled in high curls and fixed with dazzling pins. Delicate hands were covered in long, white gloves and glittering rings. The men all wore black tuxedos in differing cuts and styles.

"Do you write all the reports, Artemus," Marlita asked as she sipped from her champagne glass. She watched him from across the table, cluttered with empty dishes, buckets of ice with open bottles, and delicate stemmed glasses. "I am always seeing your writing and not James's." She paused, looking at the group as the others giggled. "Did I ask something wrong? If so, I apologize."

"Oh, no," Artemus said, quickly reaching for her hand to reassure her. "It's just that you are not in on the joke yet. You see Jim can write the report but he doesn't take time to write full sentences and paragraphs. His reports look more like the lists he use to keep in the war. The President once said, after seeing one report, that he was reminded of the military timelines Jim used to organize for him. Nothing but lists of names, dates, times, and locations. They wouldn't take you as long to type as mine do but it wouldn't be half as entertaining."

Marlita blushed, taking her hand back as Artemus released it. He reached for another bottle of champagne and added more to her glass. "Oh, your reports are like novels that Jules Verne writes; spies, bombs, secret passageways and hidden tunnels, stabbings and poisonings." She fluttered her hands near her face as she blushed, turning to Steve. "Aren't you nervous about starting to do this work?"

"Nervous?" Steve said, "More like eager. I enjoy working with Jeremy, and learning the rules of the agency, but I would like to find some of these hidden tunnels myself." He rolled his eyes, looking across at Artemus, "have you ever worked in an office? The nine to five day, every day, every week exactly the same. Terrible!"

Artie watched him for a minute, "I have heard of your father, I think," he paused, not sure how much he should say, "he is in real-estate in New York City? He helped finance Central Park?"

"Yes, that's him all right," Steve said, "you're from that area too, aren't you? Our families could be neighbors." The younger man grinned, completely missing the stare from across the table. "The park has been very good for business, brings visitors into the area. Your family is in the theater business, performing the plays?"

"Yes," Artemus said, suddenly pulling out his watch. "Well, I am afraid James and I have to leave now." The girls booed as Steve looked puzzled. "We are taking a turn watching a house tonight with some other agents. I won't bore you with details but someday soon you will read an exciting report." He winked at Marlita and gave Laura a light kiss on the cheek as he stood. He quickly spotted Jim across the dance floor and gave him a nod. His partner immediately stopped dancing and walked Melinda back to the group.

"Do you really have to leave so soon?" Melinda said, her hand gripping his elbow. "It's not that late yet." Her twinkling eyes suddenly narrowed as she looked at him, "Is this really work or do you two have other dates tonight?"

"You are a suspicious little thing," Jim laughed, kissing her cheek. "Would I do that to you?" Her eyes continued to glare. "It's work. We are working tonight." He smiled, the dimples melting her anger.

"That's what happens when you don't have a nine to five job," Artie said, picking up a top hat and putting it on his head at a jaunty angle. "You end up working twenty-four hours a day instead, seven days a week…"

"And three hundred and sixty-five days a year," Jim finished. "24/7, in other words." He turned to Steve, "don't wear yourself out dancing with all of them."

"And they need to be home by midnight," Artie added, as the girls all whined in unison. "Their boss, Herb, is very strict. In fact, don't go out of your way to mention to him that we were even here."

Steve laughed as the girls all waved. The two agents slipped from the dance hall and into the night. "We work too much," James, "even when we are on light duty." Jim humphed as they walked through the darkness, a large carpet bag held in his hand.

Hours later…..

I can't see a thing from up here," Jim growled, as he squinted through the lens of a long telescope. He stood a few feet back from a window, looking across the street toward a large home through the semidarkness.

"Of course not," Artie said, yawning behind him, sprawled sideways in a wide, wing-backed chair. "It's too dark out. That's what happens after midnight on a night with no moon." He stretched and yawned again, shifting in his more comfortable work clothes and tall leather boots. They had changed hours earlier, putting their dress clothes in the carpet bag.

Jim lowered the telescope and looked at the outside of the casing. "I thought you said this was a new light gathering lens that you could see with at night."

"It's a light gathering lens that works better when there is at least some light to gather," Artie said, his voice clearly annoyed, "It's for using at dusk, or inside a dark building; any low light situation." He pointed at the window glass. "That's pitch black outside. It won't work."

"I was hoping it would work with the lamp light," Jim sighed. He raised the lens again and put it to his right eye, and then switched it to his left; annoyed and desperate. "I can see when people pass under the street lamp," he muttered, "so it does help some." He paused, his shoulders tensing. He took a quick step closer to the window and angled down to the street.

"What?" Artie said, jumping to his feet. He stood behind Jim's shoulder, squinting through the glass. They stood together, in the unlit rented room, two stories above the street, watching people move in and out of shadows below them. Most were workers from factories walking to an early job or working home after a late shift. An occasional woman would walk past, often stopping to speak with the workmen. Many were known to the agents and would be utilized for occasional bits of information, for a token fee. Usually following behind the street women were police officers, making sure they were not molested and stayed out of serious trouble. Artie's eyes, already adjusted to the darkness, noted the usual people below. He looked back at his partner, as Jim lowered the lens from his face, slowly, lost in thought. "Jim, what did you see?"

"I'm not sure," Jim said, as he collapsed the lens. "Two people walked out of that house," he said pointing to the large home that they had been watching. "I don't think they were men," he paused, still thinking, "but they didn't look like women either."

Artie snorted, surprised at his partner's confusion. Jim was usually quick with explanations, "well, James, my boy, it's either one or the other. Unless it's someone on stage, then it can be confusing," he chuckled. "What did you see," he repeated.

Jim suddenly turned to a small table in the middle of the room. "Wait," he snapped, putting the lens down. He picked up a nub of a pencil and quickly wrote a note. "What time is it," he asked, still writing.

Artie grabbed at his watch, turning it to the weak lamp light, "Quarter to four," he said. He stepped to the table and read the note, muttering, "Following two possible leads."

"The next team will be here in fifteen minutes," Jim said, dropping the pencil and grabbing his hat. "I want to follow those two. Come on," he said, jumping to the door. Artie snatched his hat and followed, locking the door on the way out. They hurried down the stairs and out the front door. Jim turned to the right for a few steps and crossed the street, keeping to the darkest shadows, away from the lamps.

"Would you mind telling me what it is that you saw?" Artie kept a half step behind, not knowing when to turn and trying to stay out of the way. Jim paused, obviously trying to decide which way to go.

"Two people," Jim whispered, "about average height, long braids down the back," he paused as Artie whispered "Chinese". Jim shook his head, "No, the clothes were American pants, jackets, and hats. I couldn't see faces but they had the figure of a female."

"Two females walking the streets," Artie sighed, clearly disappointed. "We've been watching them all evening. Women walk these streets all the time in the city."

"In pants and jackets?" Jim said, shaking his head. "Not that I've ever seen. Not like these two."

"Modern women," Artie shrugged, "You can't tell them what to wear anymore, can't enforce dress codes in a city as large as this. But you said they came out of the house? They could be the ones everyone is looking for."

"Everyone is looking for men," Jim said, suddenly continuing down a dark street, narrow with tall darkened store fronts, "who are supposed to be contacts from the customs business in California. But maybe we should be looking for women who dress like men and everyone thinks they are men because no one has seen them up close." They rounded a corner and took a few steps down another, even narrower, old street when a dark figure stepped out in front of them.

"Good evening, gentlemen," the smooth voice of a woman said. The two agents froze in mid-step, obviously caught following her. The woman was still standing in the shadows, clad completely in black, making her almost invisible. Only the pale skin of her cheekbones shone in the dim lamplight. "Looking for someone?"

Jim tilted his head, looking her up and down, "I was," he said, his smooth voice soft in the darkness. "My friend and I were looking for a good time in the city. We thought maybe you and your friend," he paused, his eyes darting to the sides of the alley, "might be interested in…"

"Really?" The woman snapped, crossing her arms over her chest as she took a step closer, moving into the light. Black hair peeked out from underneath the edge of a wide-brimmed black hat. Deep blue eyes glared at them from a porcelain white face.

Artie's eyes darted over the clothing, noting the tight fitting, and slightly Spanish, clothing was clearly a man's south-western outfit. It reminded him of his Spanish gun-slinger disguise he had worn in the past. "Of course you must be use to men following you in the night when you are out so late," he said, giving the woman his most gallant smile and tipping his hat.

The blue eyes looked from one man to another, "names, please," she snapped.

"I would love to introduce myself," Artemus said, rambling on, giving his partner time to look the situation over and decide what to do. "Maybe you would like to see some official identification," he purred, raising his right hand to his jacket front.

"Hold it, mister," another woman's voice, harsher sounding, came from above them. Artie's hand froze as his gaze went up. He could just make out a pair of tall black leather boots on legs that disappeared into the darkness and the twin black eyes of a double-barrel shotgun pointing down at him. He swallowed and tried to speak but Jim was quicker.

"We just want to talk," Jim said, holding his hands to his sides, as he also looked up. "Why don't you climb down here and stand by your friend and we'll have a nice chat."

"I'm fine where I am," the voice growled. The barrels moved to Artie, "you may remove the object with your left hand and it better not be a gun. I can take both your heads off from here."

Jim glared at the barrels, watching silently, as Artie slowly pulled open his jacket and twisted his left hand to his inside pocket. Two fingers snagged his identity card and he handed it slowly out to the woman in front of him. The woman took a careful step closer to him and reached for it. He smiled and winked at her as she took it and stepped back.

She walked backwards a few steps into the lamp light and opened the card, her eyes scanning it, as the agents looked more closely at her. The clothes were tight fitting and no gun was obvious but along the waist band, front and back, were the short thin handles of throwing knives. The agents exchanged a shocked look. Suddenly the girl folded the card again and stepped back to them. Without taking her eyes off them, she called out to her companion, "Secret Service agents."

The shotgun barrel snapped up as the woman said loudly, "Oh for Christ's sake! What a wasted evening!" She shifted her body and suddenly dropped to the ground, landing the tall boots with a loud thud on the cobble stone street.

Jim stepped forward as the woman turned away. "Now that you know who we are," he snarled, "You tell me who you two are and what you were doing in that house."

The woman paused, looking back at him, snapping, "We're Secret Service agents too."

"What?!" As Jim took a step closer, the girl snapped an identity card out of a coat pocket with her free hand. She waved it in front of his face and started to turn away again when Jim stepped forward and grabbed her left wrist. She instinctively pulled back, yanking, but he held on even tighter, pulling her closer, twisting the card to inspect it in the light. "There are no women Secret Service agents," he snarled.

"Let go of my arm," the woman whispered fiercely. She yanked again, her hat tipping back from her face. Blond hair fell out, partially covering her darker tanned skin. Pale eyes glared into his. "I won't tell you again, mister," she snarled, raising the shotgun barrel over her shoulder as if to strike him.

Jim's eyes darted briefly from her face to the double barrels, and released her wrist. She immediately stepped away from him, spun around, and dropped the barrels into a shotgun sleeve slung over her back. The gun almost completely disappeared in the leather scar board, which blended with the color of her coat. The butt end was quickly covered with the long blond braid. She straightened the brim of hat as she began to walk away.

"Hey," Jim snapped, trying not to yell in the night. He looked back at the dark haired woman, who was approaching Artie, his card held out to him. "I said I want to know who you two are. This conversation isn't over."

Artie recognized the frustration in his partner's voice, which sometimes lead to drastic action. "Maybe we can talk over dinner," he said, taking the card back and trying to break the ice that hung in the night's air between them. "Or should I say breakfast," he smiled, stepping closer to the woman's blue eyes. He tucked the card into his coat, noting that the blond had stopped walking away and the dark haired woman seemed more relaxed at his side. "We can explain to you how Secret Service agent's share information."

The girl in front of him smiled, her perfect white teeth almost glowing in the darkness. "That would be interesting," she said. "As long as the sharing goes both ways." She winked at him and turned to walk away.

Artie turned to look at his partner as Jim took a deep breath and tried to calm his voice. "Well, this is surprising. So, breakfast, while we talk?"

The two women, now standing next to each other nodded, the blond saying, "Fine. We know a place. And we'll even let you pay." They began to walk as the two agents followed, muttering to each other.

tbc...


	2. Chapter 2 Early Morning Introductions

Chapter 2 - Early Morning Introductions

"This place isn't open, is it," Jim said in a hushed voice. "I've never eaten at this restaurant before." He stepped back, bumping into Artie who was following close on his heels. They both paused to look into the windows, seeing faint flickering candle light inside. The back door was closed and no one was nearby. The sun was just giving a hint of light, still below the horizon, so the narrow streets were still dark. Many workers were moving now, going to early morning jobs in the city.

"That's the best time to come here," the dark haired woman said, turning to look at the agents as they stood in the street. The blond stepped forward and opened the door, walking inside, without knocking or announcing herself. "Coming," the woman asked, moving through the doorway.

"If this is a trap," Artie muttered, stepping past his partner to move to the doorway, "it's the best smelling trap I have ever entered." He walked into the darkened hallway, pausing in the doorway behind the two women. Jim stepped in behind him, letting out a long sigh. They had been up for almost twenty-four hours now and were starting to feel fatigue setting in. But the two women ahead of them were too intriguing not to follow.

"Figlia! Figlia!" A very round, short women burst from a back room into the hallway and was calling out to the women, her arms outstretched to embrace them. The girls leaned forward to hug the older lady and she continued the cry, "Figlia!" She suddenly noticed Jim and Artemus and spoke excitedly to the girls, who only smiled and nodded. The woman slapped her hands over her face in obvious delight, "come!" She turned down a side hallway and the group followed.

"Sit! Sit!" The older lady said, stopping at a large table in a corner of a dining room. Chairs were still upside down on table tops throughout the room and the place was clearly deserted. "I bring tea and colazione." She disappeared into another hallway and other excited voices were heard in the distance.

The two girls dropped into their seats before the agents could politely hold chairs for them. Jim and Artie exchanged a glance and Jim shrugged. They sat, with Jim moving to the seat that allowed his back to the wall while he faced the room. Artie, knowing his partner, had moved toward the seat next to it. The girls sat near each other on the other side of the table.

"So how do you know this charming place," Jim asked, putting his hat on another chair nearby. He watched, curious, as the girls also removed their wide brimmed hats. The dark haired girl had sharp features with high cheekbones. Her blue eyes were a deep cobalt and looked even brighter set against her pale white skin. She smiled easily though she still seemed reserved, her eyes moving from one agent to the other. The blond was the complete opposite, her frame being wider and slightly shorter. Her hair was blond streaked with darker shades and her eyes were a pale grey. Her darker tanned skin showed a facial expression that seemed to alternate with bored disinterest and angry defiance as she watched the men. She slipped her arms out of the shoulder straps of the scarboard and placed the shotgun flat across two chairs behind her, with the butt noticeably within reach.

"We are friends with the family," the dark haired girl said. "My name is Christian Shepard. My friend is Lori Huntington." She smiled at both men as the blond, Lori, leaned back in her chair to glare at them, silently.

Some sort of game of good cop, bad cop, Jim thought to himself as his partner introduced them. He watched for any sign of recognition when Artie said their names but they gave no indication, or even showed interest, in them.

Conversation was delayed by two small children appearing between Artie and Christian, one carrying a large ceramic pot and the other with two fistful of mugs. Artie grabbed the pot, smiling to the children and speaking to them in Italian, while Christian took the mugs. "You speak Italian?" She asked, putting mugs upright on the table. Artie smiled to her and nodded as he poured the steaming hot liquid. "We don't so we don't always know what they are saying, but they bring us food."

"I thought you said you were friends with the family," Jim asked, wondering if they had slipped already as he watched for inconsistencies.

"We know their oldest daughter, who speaks English," Christian said. "The parents always feed us when we come so we stop in occasionally. The mother seems happy to see us and can speak a few words of English." She sipped her tea, smiling, while Lori continued to glare. "So what were we going to talk about?"

"You were going to tell me why you two were in that house," Jim said, trying to keep his voice steady. His eyes flickered between the two women.

"Were we?" Christian said with her dazzling smile. She waited for Jim to take a long slow breath in and then she set her cup down, leaning toward him. "And what were you going to tell us in trade?"

Artie grinned into his mug, watching his partner with amusement. Jim slowly let his breath out and he sat forward, meeting her gaze. "I am not telling you anything since I need to confirm who you two really are first. You said you were agents? Not just work for the secret service, but that you are actual agents?"

"Would a secretary carry an identity card?" Christian asked, leaning back now into her chair as he leaned even closer to her, "Do I look like a secretary to you?"

"If you are agents, why haven't we seen you at the headquarters building on Pine St," Jim asked.

"Central Street," Lori said evenly.

"Excuse me, Central," Jim said, smiling. "My brain is a little foggy, we've been up for a while. So how long have you two been agents and why haven't I heard about you?"

Christian paused, taking a deep breath, "We have been doing this for about one year. And maybe you haven't heard of us because you have been off on that private train of yours."

Jim's eyes flickered to his partners and back to the girl. "So you have heard of us," he said. "You have us at a disadvantage that we would like to rectify. Why don't you start at the beginning and tell us how this all occurred."

"Oh, my," Christian said, tsking her tongue, "that would be such a long story after you have been awake all night already. Let's just say that we work for Colonel Richmond and report directly to him. We are rarely at the headquarters building so I am sure not many people know about us, except the secretaries and the payroll office, of course."

"The secretaries know you exist?" Jim said, surprised. And didn't tell me, he thought to himself. Wait until I catch Melinda, he growled under his breath. "So you report to Colonel Richmond but don't go to his office? Do you meet him here?"

"No," Christian said, "we go to his home, morning or evenings. Or we send him a note. Sometimes we meet in the city in various locations."

"Sounds like a Secret Service within the Secret Service," Artemus chuckled. "I wonder if Richmond has other pairs of private agents." He winked at Jim as his partner looked at him briefly and then returned his glare to the two women, obviously suspicious of their story. The blond still remained silent, watching them.

"And what does the Colonel's' wife, Mary, think of all this happening at her house?" Jim asked slowly, "she is very particular who comes to her house on Pennsylvania Avenue…"

"Oh my God," Lori burst out, slamming her right palm on the table top, her eyes blazing as she leaned toward Jim. "You are so annoying. Richmond's wife is Gladys and the house is on Meridian Hill. The dog's name is Fifi, if you would like to have that confirmed too." She sat back in her chair with a huff, silent and glaring again.

Jim grinned, glancing at his partner briefly and returning his attention back at Christian. The dark hair girl was sipping patiently at her tea. "It does sound like you have been to the house," Jim said, nodding in agreement now. "I am sure once I speak to Colonel Richmond to confirm who you really are, we can exchange information." The blond rolled her eyes but stayed silent. "However you seem to accept who we are. So, as I asked earlier, why were you in that house," his voice taking a hard edge.

Christian smiled pleasantly, "we were just looking around. It's such a nice house, and so large, we thought maybe they were renting rooms. A girl can always use a new apartment."

Jim opened his mouth to protest, his eyes blazing in anger, just as the older woman suddenly arrived at the table with a wide tray of plates piled high with food. "Uova strapazzate and salsiccia!" She announced boisterously, placing plates heaped with eggs and sausages in front of each person, oblivious of the heated discussion. "Buon Appetito!" She snatched up the empty tea pot as a young girl carried a new one to the table.

"Grazie, Senoria," Artie said, as everyone else said thank you to the woman. He rattled off a few additional lines of gratitude to her obvious pleasure. Blushing, she hurried back into the kitchen. Loud words were exchanged again in the distance. Artie sat, head tilted, obviously listening to the voices as the others began eating in cold silence.

Jim looked up, hearing a man's deeper voice yelling in Italian. He nodded to his partner, "What are they saying?" Noticing that Artemus was not eating yet; he set his fork down and reached for the butt of his revolver. He leaned back in his chair, giving his hand more room underneath the table top.

The two girls glared at him and the blond reached a hand to her shotgun, "do not even think about it here, mister."

Jim looked from Artie to her and then to her hand. His eyes narrowed in anger, his teeth clenching, but his hand stayed on his revolver grip. Still staring at Lori, he whispered, "Artie?"

"They are just discussing us," Artie said, trying to talk and listen. "It appears that the owner of this establishment would like to see who the two men are out here with these young ladies." Jim snorted, relaxing slightly, "and the woman is trying to convince him to leave a knife in the kitchen." Jim's gaze snapped to the hallway and he tensed again as the man suddenly stormed out of the kitchen, screaming in Italian. As he approached, he raised his arms and began waving a long, wide blade over his head. His wife was at his heels, screaming and trying to hop up to grab his arm. Jim started to rise and Artie grabbed his left wrist, holding him still, "wait," he whispered, "let me first." He stood slowly, hands out to his sides, speaking quickly in Italian with a cheerful smile on his face. He paused; nodding as the man spoke rapidly, pointing the knife at the two girls.

Artemus nodded again, bowing slightly, "Si! Si!" The older man nodded to Artemus and looked to Jim. Speaking again, Artie waved his hand toward his partner, still smiling and nodding, obviously introducing Jim to the man.

Jim nodded, "Signore." He rose slowly, holding his hands to his side, then reaching his right out toward the irate man. The man stepped forward to shake hands over the table, each man staring into the other's eyes and gripping hands. The man stepped back and reached to shake hands with Artemus, nodding silently. He leaned over to kiss the cheek of Christian and then stepped to Lori's side, doing the same with her. He stood to give a final look to Jim and Artemus and then turned to stomp back to the kitchen, his wife again at his heels.

Jim and Artie both let out a large breath of air. "Wow," Artie said, "that was intense. I guess he just wanted to see who was here with the," he paused, bowing to the girls, "the Signorinas."

Jim sat back down and looked at the girls, "you two seem highly appreciated here, that's obvious. Would you really have tried to shoot me if I had drawn my gun?" He winked at Lori as the blond gave him a blank stare back.

"Yes," she said, moving her hand from her shotgun back to her fork. "No one shoots him. Or any of them." She picked up a fork full of eggs and started eating, ignoring Jim again. Christian did the same and soon the men joined in.

Later on the train ************************

"Did you see her blue eyes?" Artie hollered to his partner in the next room as he stood in the bathroom at the sink. He ran hot water into the bowl and picked up the soap. "She was one of the most beautiful women I have ever seen."

"Oh they were a lovely pair," Jim said through the open door of his bedroom. His voice had a sharp, sarcastic edge. "If they were men I would have beaten it out of them."

"Odd," Artie said, rubbing bubbles of soap on his face. "They just disappeared into the city. We should have followed them."

"Because you want to know where the beautiful blue-eyed girl lives," Jim laughed, moving his head to the bathroom doorway to grin at his partner. "I would rather go meet up with Richmond at his office. We can find out where they live from him. Or from Melinda, the sneaky little tart; she should have told me about this."

Artie laughed, "She, and the others, probably didn't want us to know about them. More competition, you know." He rubbed his face with his washcloth. "Maybe she is worried that blond will start chasing you. Though she really didn't look interested in either of us, that's for sure."

"She's a nut," Jim said, standing in the hallway with his hands on his hips, thinking. "Did you see she almost pulled that shotgun on me in the restaurant?"

"Just because you were going to shoot her friend?" Artie shook his head, in mock wonder. "I did think she was going to crack the barrel over your forehead when we first met them in the alley. She was just about the smack you with it when you let go of her wrist."

"I am pretty sure I could have fought her off," Jim snapped, irritated. "Her eyes were the color of a dead fish and her personality matched." He stomped back into his room, noises of bureau drawers opening and slamming shutting. "What time does Richmond get to his office? Eight o'clock? I want to catch him before he heads out to his usual meetings."

"Yes, I think so. I'll go with you," Artie said, "however I may fall asleep riding back into town. I need to get my beauty sleep eventually but I do want their home address. Then I may just happen to pass by this afternoon, if you know what I mean." He finished with his washcloth and hung it on the metal bar on the edge of the sink. He pulled out a comb from a cupboard and began combing his dark hair.

"Stalker!" Jim hollered, laughing again.

"They will be surprised and delighted at my presence," Artie chuckled, studying his hair in the mirror, "and politely invite me in for tea." He walked into the hallway and looked into Jim's room as he continued, "Especially if I don't bring you with me. I am sure I can start a pleasant conversation with them if I am alone."

"Oh so now I am dead weight," Jim snorted, pulling off his shirt and throwing onto the floor. He unbuttoned his pants and pulled them off, adding them to the growing pile of laundry. "These two aren't going to react like normal women. They may smack you over the head with a shotgun barrel." He pulled on a clean pair of blue pants and a crisp white shirt. "But maybe if you pretend you are someone else, wear a disguise," he said, as he buttoned the shirt, "maybe some sweet talking salesmen that pushes small firearms for women and jewel encrusted throwing knives, then you might be invited in."

"Oh, no," Artie said, "I want to meet them as me, dear ole Artie, and not some other guy."

"Them or just the blue-eyed girl," Jim said, laughing. "You probably should keep your distance with the other one; she doesn't look right in the head to me. She's probably dangerous."

"I will definitely save her for you," Artie laughed, "I know how you enjoy dangerous women." Jim glared at him, shaking his head. "She can't be more dangerous than Jennifer WIngate, the lovely lady who shot you in the chest at very close range."

Jim paused, the dimples showing slowly as he thought back, "Jennifer," he sighed, "now she was a pretty blond. I should have arrested her so I could visit her in prison. I wonder where she is now." He stomped into his boots and grabbed his gun belt. "Ready?"

Artie pulled out his watch and blinked, yawning. "It should be eight just as we arrive. Maybe we can follow him in from the sidewalk so no one distracts him on the way to the office." They walked out of the train and moved to their horses. Artie, climbing more slowly into the saddle, said worriedly, "what if Richmond won't tell us about them? He may say it's a secret, you know."

Jim grinned, "You forget, they said that the secretaries know them. I can get anything out of those women, if I really try." He winked and nudged his horse into a fast trot. Artie followed him back into the city.

At Headquarters +++++++++++++++++++++++++

"So you did meet them," Colonel Richmond said, walking into this office. He hung his overcoat on a coat rack and moved to his desk as Jim and Artie entered the small room. "I thought you might, since you were working in the city this week. I was wondering if these two cases would overlap."

"Overlap?" Artie asked, moving to the chairs in front of the desk. He sat in one as Jim sat in the other. "We are trying to find men from California who were meeting the owner of that home because they are the contacts for this international customs business. The description is pretty vague so we were watching for anyone but we saw those two women emerge. Do you know what they were doing in there?"

"Wait," Jim said, holding up a hand, "before we get into all that, are we correct that these two are actual agents for the Secret Service? They had ID cards but I thought they were fakes or copies."

Richmond sat behind his big desk, laid his hands on piles of papers, and smiled, looking from one agent to another. "My, we are full of questions this morning, aren't we?" He grinned, waiting for the two men to relax, "I do enjoy seeing you two feeling better and regaining your curiosity for life after the train explosion and frolicking fun afterwards. Might I remind you that watching that house was to be a calm and quiet thing for you both to do in your rehabilitation, not chasing people around in the dark streets?" He waited for another heartbeat, amused by their guilty looks.

Taking a deep breath, he said, "I have an idea. I have already spoken with Lori and Christian this morning on the way to the office," he paused again as both men lurched forward in surprise, "yes, they beat you to me. And they reported on what they saw inside the house, or didn't see."

Jim growled in frustration, "Didn't you tell us that we shouldn't enter the house?"

"Yes, I didn't want you two in there," Richmond nodded, "because I had sent them in. I don't need four agents searching one building." Jim rolled his eyes but stayed silent as Artie chuckled softly. "But I have another difficult decision to make. And I need to rely on your professionalism for this next part." He paused, looking at each man sternly in the eye. "I am going to say something that you two may not appreciate but we all make sacrifices for this job. And you two do get the worse of the assignments but only because you are the most capable." He smiled, knowing the men weren't falling for the compliment.

"Sir," Artemus said "I don't want to appear pushy but I am dead tired, if you could move toward the point of this?" He held a hand in front of his face as he stifled a yawn.

"Yes, let me stop beating around the bush and just lay it out to you." Richmond smiled, "I want the two young ladies brought to San Francisco on the train."

"What?" Jim blurted out as Artie sat in stunned silence. "Why?"

"For the case that you are all working on, of course. I don't need two teams of agents working against each other; I need you all working together. And it will give both of you another five days of rest, by the end of which you should be fully recovered from your injuries." He glared at Jim as he opened his mouth to protest, "I am sure you will manage somehow, obviously arrange for an additional sleeping car for their privacy, and make plans to assist them in anything they might need for their work. I have given them permission to review what they know so far and I expect the same from you two." He paused again, looking at them.

"Fine," Artie said, tiredly, "fine, we will make room."

"So they are agents then?" Jim repeated in obvious disbelief.

"To a limited capacity," Richmond said, nodding. "You see I need special agents for specialized work. I was a bit in doubt of the President's idea," the agents again exchanged a glance, "but they have been very useful. So far, of course, they have only been working in Washington DC itself but now I need them to travel to San Francisco. That's where you two come in. I am sure over the five days, you will all become better acquainted," Richmond said, smiling at first but then his eyes narrowed and he leaned forward over his desk, his voice taking on an unusual stern edge. "I am sure I also don't have to be clear about what not to do; there will be no touching, no yelling, no being abusive or belligerent in any way. If I hear any complaints about ungentlemanly conduct…"

Jim scowled, "of course not, it's the furthest thing from my mind when it comes to those two."

"Good," Richmond said, sitting back smiling again. He let out a long sigh, "then I will ask you to hurry with your train preparations and I thank you for stopping in. I thought I would have to send the search hounds out for you today."

"Oh, our pleasure," Jim said, as they stood. Artie rose slowly, blinking sleep from his eyes. As they walked out, Jim muttered to his partner, "You seem to be pretty silent about the whole 'don't touch' instructions." He smacked Artie in the shoulder as the older agent grinned, unusually silent, "you better watch for those knives in her belt."

tbc


	3. Chapter 3 Dinner Paty

Chapter 3 Dinner party

Late that afternoon...

Artie was busy at the stove in the galley when he heard the front door of the varnish car slam shut. He paused, assuming the guests would enter through the more formal back door at the car's steps, and checked the time. Only four o'clock, he thought, too early for the women to arrive. He returned to stirring the bouillon he was cooking on the stove, adding a pinch of salt. He felt, more than heard, his partner in the hallway. He turned to look and saw Jim standing in the galley's doorway, face flushed, fists balled on his hips. "What?" Artie asked, his heart skipping a beat. "Train trouble? This isn't a good time for breakdowns before we start."

"No sleeping car," Jim growled, his blue eyes glaring.

"Oh," Artie said, straightening and turning to face him. "Well, that isn't the end of the world. We have crushed more people in here than just a couple of intriguing women."

Jim sighed, relaxing slightly, and nodded in agreement. "I just didn't want complications with these two after that stern speech the Colonel gave us. But I went everywhere, not just this rail yard. How can there be not one sleeping car anywhere in the Washington DC area?"

"Maybe we can pick one up on the way; Denver or San Francisco at least," Artie said, trying to placate his partner. "Richmond will understand that we tried. They can have your room and we'll split my room."

Jim nodded, relaxing more, rubbing his tired eyes. "I have a bad feeling about this. I have never met women that were like them. Even women spies and agents from other countries that we have met always had men working closely with them to protect them. But these two seem to walk around all alone." He shrugged, shaking his head.

"Richmond said that he was surprised at Grant's suggestion concerning these two." Artie said, rubbing his chin absently as he thought out loud. "It makes me wonder if President Grant knew them and suggested to Richmond that they work as agents. Hopefully they tell us more tonight," he said, "or this week. Or next week," he grinned. "Its five days out to California and five days back, and then who knows how long we will be out there."

"We need a sleeping car for them," Jim growled again. "San Francisco must have one or the entire state of California." He nodded, "but you're right, Richmond mentioned Grant suggested them." He shook his head again in disbelief. "What time is it?" he glanced at the clock over the stove, "I have one hour to clear my room out. Damn…." He said, moving to his room.

Artie moved the bouillon to the back of the stove to keep warm. He placed a wide, heavy pan on to the hotter, front part of the stove top, adding grease and some pieces of steak tips and onions to fry. Checking another pot of simmering vegetables, humming as he worked, he finally stood, satisfied with the meal. He picked up a pile of plates and a handful of silverware and moved to the living room to set the table. Stemware was already in place and a bucket of ice was on the sideboard holding two bottles of champagne. Artie placed a plate in front of each chair and arranged the silverware on cloth napkins. He was just standing when he heard horses outside. He stepped to the window to look out.

"James," he called out, "we have guests." He glanced at the clock on the fireplace mantle. "They are early. Must be excited to join us." He heard a bureau drawer slam shut and grumblings. He leaned over again to see the two dismount and hook the reins to the railings along the lower edge of the varnish car's undercarriage near the back steps. They each grabbed carpet bags and paper sacks and walked toward the door. Artie hurried to the door and opened it wide as the girls appeared on the landing. "Welcome to our humble abode," he announced with a sweep of his arm and bowing. "Please come in."

"Thank you," Christian said, smiling. She entered slowly, looking around. Lori followed and Artie shut the door behind them.

"Welcome," Jim said, stepping through the swinging doors and walking closer. "You're a bit early but I guess we're ready." He smiled, looking to each woman. They were dressed the same as they had been earlier but the daylight made it easier to see the details of their clothing, and their figures underneath the tight fitting outfits.

"Thank you for letting us join you," Christian said to Jim as she stepped further into the room. "Colonel Richmond suggested it to us but said he would ask your opinions first if this would work."

"We transport people all the time," Jim said, nodding to his partner. "It gives Artemus someone else to cook for besides me."

At that Lori handed a paper sack to Artie, "we wanted to donate food toward the trip. I brought a few dozen eggs and some bread." Christian handed her bag also, as Lori added, "And a couple pounds of sausages too."

"You didn't need to do all that," Artemus said, taking both of the bags, "but thank you. We can have quite a breakfast in the morning." He backed up a step, "please come in and make yourselves comfortable. Dinner will be a few minutes. I'll just go put these away and check the stove." He turned and hurried into the kitchen as the girls set their bags down.

Looking around, their eyes moved from the golden furniture to the fringed curtains. "This is very fancy," Lori said, walking to the fireplace. She put her hand on the patched wall, "looks like your head landed here," she chuckled, looking at Jim.

"Yes," he smiled, "we had the train redone recently but it doesn't stay perfect for long."

"We heard about the fire," Lori said, turning to look more closely at his face. "Richmond said you were both injured and are still recovering. But you seem fine..."

"We're almost 100 percent," Jim said, touching a finger to a tender spot on his face. The black and blue marks had turned a pale yellow now, barely noticeable along his hair line. He turned to look at the kitchen, "still keeping an eye on him but he seems fine too."

"Richmond said you were both on light duty and this trip would allow you to rest," Christian added. "We will try not to be too much trouble. Where can we store our gear?"

"For now," Jim said, taking a deep breath, "my room. It's the largest room; it's where we usually put our guests. I hope to get another sleeping car on the way; there wasn't one to be had in Washington on short notice." He waved them toward the swinging doors and stepped back.

"Oh, we don't want to put you out of your room," Lori said, worried, "We can sleep out here on the couches." She picked up her bag hesitantly.

"No, no," Jim said, "I insistent. It won't be for the whole trip and Artie and I will switch off with his room. He doesn't sleep much anyway and he'll be out here working at the desk and just wake you up." He stepped back as they walked past him, moving through the doors. They passed the galley door, and peeked in at Artie. He smiled and nodded, as he stirred the frying pan. "Don't interrupt the cook when he's working," Jim laughed, as they passed. "The next door is the lab," he said, as the girls peeked into the narrow work room. "The next door is my room," he said, watching as they walked in.

"Oh, this is larger than I expected," Lori said, her eyes looking from the full size bed to the bureau partially recessed into the wall. A large mirror hung over the drawers. "Very neat," she said.

"I emptied the bureau for now," Jim said, leaning against the doorframe. "It will give you some space. I am sure you'll be comfortable." He looked down at his bed and thought about how he would miss his mattress.

Artie stepped up behind him. "The couch is perfectly comfortable, James," he said, slapping a hand on his partner's shoulder. "And you'll be fine in my room as long as you don't mind a book landing on you occasionally as the train moves." He grinned as Jim rolled his eyes. "I am putting soup on, if you are hungry now? Good to eat it before we are in motion. Eating soup on a moving train is messy."

Jim snorted, "That's for sure." He tipped his head to one side, nodding toward down the hall. "The next room is the bathroom and beyond that is his room. Handy to have a room between us, cuts down on noise." The girls turned to look back at him, eyebrows raised. "I'm told I snore," he said quickly.

"Oh," Lori said, giggling. "Well thank you for the use of your room. This is very nice. We'll just wash up and meet you at the table. Oh," she added, stepping closer, her pale eyes holding his, "what about our horses? Do you have room for them in your stable car?"

"Already taken care of," Jim said, nodding, knowing Cobb and his assistant would be moving the horses inside as soon as the women arrived. He turned and walked down the hall as his bedroom door shut. Stopping at the galley door, he watched his partner carefully ladle soup into four bowls arranged on a tray. Plates of bread and butter were pilled near the bowls. "Artie," he said quietly, "there's nothing in the soup."

Artie's hand paused, the ladle stopped over the pot, "its bouillon soup, Jim. It's French."

"French for," Jim said slowly, "'I forgot to put something in the soup'?" He grinned as the dark eyes glared at him. He stepped forward to hold the door open as Artie picked up the tray and slowly walked out to the table. "Maybe they won't notice." Artie just growled as he walked past.

"Notice what?" Christian said, stepping up behind Jim in the hallway. She smelled of fresh soap and her porcelain skin glowed in the sunlight hallway.

"I hope you ladies don't mind my partner's eccentric taste," Jim said, stepping aside, holding the door for them, as Lori quickly joined them. "He cooks some odd things sometimes."

"We eat anything," Lori said, as they all sat. She peered at the bowl, stirring it with her spoon. "This smells wonderful," she said, putting the spoon gingerly to her lips. "How can this taste so good without anything in it. It's just broth."

Artie laughed, "Its bouillon, which is French for broth," he said, as Jim rolled his eyes again. The two men sat on the ends of the table as the two girls sat on the opposing sides. "There were oxtails in it and vegetables but they are strained out at an earlier step."

Lori paused with her spoon halfway to her mouth, "wait, what? There was meat and vegetables in this soup but you took them out before serving it?" She turned a skeptical eye at Jim and he just shrugged. "Why would you not leave it in?"

"Because then it would be stew, not bouillon," Artie said, "This is soup served before the main meal."

"Oh, I understand now," Christian said, "If you want soup and dinner too. Its wonderful," she purred, sipping delicately from her spoon.

"Yes," Jim added, "for cooks who can't decide what to serve. Odd how you can still cook French food with your French cookbook missing." He stood to grab a bottle from the ice bucket, twisting the cork out. He moved back to the table to fill the glasses.

"Luckily," Artie growled, waving his spoon at Jim, "I had a few recipes memorized before it vanished into thin air. I need to buy another one and keep it stored in a more secure location." Jim grinned and busied himself with his soup. "But I will gladly turn the kitchen over to these young ladies for our trip since they would probably rather do the cooking than eat my creations."

Lori and Christian looked each other over the table, eyes wide with surprise. Lori turned to Artie, "only if you really like scrambled eggs. That's about all we cook. It could make for a long trip."

It was Artie and Jim's turn to stare at each other in shock. "You don't cook?" Jim said slowly. "I thought all women cooked. I thought it came naturally."

"You thought wrong," Lori said. "We don't cook. We go out; restaurants, friend's homes."

"Well then," Artie said, clearly surprised. "I will gladly continue. Let me get the next course."

"I'll follow you with the bowls," Christian said, snatching up the empty dishes and spoons, and standing. "Just because we don't cook, doesn't mean we can't help." She hurried behind him as they left the table.

"You aren't just pulling his leg?" Jim asked Lori. He leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, watching her curiously, "You two really don't cook?"

"Oh, I can make a sandwich or cut up an apple," she smiled. "But I don't think Artemus would enjoy eating what I make."

Jim sighed, nodding, "He'll try new things but he is pretty finicky when it comes to food. He eats anything if he's hungry enough but I have seen him go days without eating."

Lori chuckled, "I can't go very long without something to eat. It's nice being in the city; there is food everywhere, you just need to know how to get it."

Jim stared at her, "you could just buy it." She winked at him as Artie walked back into the room carrying a platter heaped with steak pieces and onions. Christian followed with a bowl of vegetables.

"My dear," Artemus said, placing the platter on center of the table, "your meat is served." The plates were piled with food and handed around. "I hope you approve," he said, sitting. "We met a man a while back that said people should only eat fruits and vegetables. We tried it for a day but it seemed odd and we were starving."

"Oh, ya," Jim said, sipping at his champagne, "that was terrible. I think we went out for steaks around midnight. I don't know how that man survived."

The girls giggled, each putting a second helping on their plates, obviously eating more than the men. Jim and Artie exchanged a glance over the now empty platter and bowl. "We have done that, when needed, but nothing is better than meat," Christian said, "this is wonderful. Do you two always eat like this?"

"When we are on the train, we do," Artie said, his eyes watching the women eating the last of their meals. "Sometimes, on the trail, we just eat dirt." Jim snorted, shaking his head. "James, if you would open the next bottle, I will bring out the dessert." He returned his partner's glare, knowing Jim didn't approve of sweets, even for guests. Artie rose, taking the platter, as Christian again collected the plates. They moved into the kitchen, leaving Lori with Jim again.

"Oh, I don't know if I can eat another bite," Lori said, leaning back into her chair. She rubbed her stomach over her white cotton shirt, stealing a glance at Jim. "Would he be insulted if I didn't eat dessert?"

"Good question," Jim said, "especially since he isn't supposed to be making dessert. He must be trying to impress you two. Maybe this week, he'll just cook platters of meat."

Lori smiled, closing her eyes, "that would be great."

Jim's eyes moved down her slim frame, wondering where she put all that food. He paused at the waistband of the deep chocolate colored pants, his eyes looking for the grips of handguns or knives. Not seeing any didn't make him any more comfortable. Artie and Christian soon reentered the room with more bowls. "Did you dirty every bowl and plate in the galley tonight?"

Artie ignored him and set two serving bowls on the table, the larger one being full of small pieces of fruit, and the smaller overflowing with whipped cream. "It's a healthy dessert for you, partner." Christian handed everyone a small bowl and again food was passed around and quickly eaten.

"Wonderful meal," Lori said, leaning against the back of her chair, patting her stomach, and smiling at Artemus. "We heard rumors about your cooking and I can say it's all true."

"Thank you," Artie said, smiling. "I hope you don't believe all the rumors you heard about us." He winked at her and wiggled his eyebrows. The girls broke into fits of laughter.

Jim took a deep breath and pushed his bowl away, resting his forearms on the table. "So now that everyone is fed and happy," he said, a guarded smile on his face, "let's clear the air on what this trip entails." He waited for all the eyes to turn toward his. "Colonel Richmond didn't go into a lot of details; he said you would do that once we started," He paused, taking out his watch and glancing at it, "which will be in about five minutes. So why don't we discuss what this trip is about?"

Lori and Christian exchanged a glance, the darker haired girl taking on her usual, placid smile as the blond instantly appeared to be on guard. "We are on our way to San Francisco to arrest a man and bring him back to Washington DC," Christian said.

"And why you two?" Jim asked carefully.

"Because we know what he looks like," Christian added, the conversation quickly becoming just the two of them as Artemus and Lori watched.

"So, the best plan would be that, once we get to San Francisco," Jim said slowly now, "we can all go into the city together and you can point this man out to us, if and when we find him. Then you two can return to the train and Artemus and I will do the actual arresting." Artie nodded in agreement as Lori remained silent and unmoving.

Christian shook her head slowly, still smiling, "I think it would be best if Lori and I handled this fellow without your help." Jim opened his mouth to protest, his eyes narrowing with frustration at being disagreed with, but Christian continued. "Do you know you two have a eighty-seven percent death rate?"

"A what?" Jim said, obviously taken off guard.

"A death rate," Christian repeated, "of eighty-seven percent. That is the highest of any agent in the Service. You kill most everyone you are sent out after. We need this person captured alive and brought back to Washington DC…alive." She glanced at Artie quickly and back to Jim. "We researched your files before we came here tonight. It wasn't difficult to figure out."

"I have never figured the exact numbers but we are sent after the worst of the worst," Artie said carefully, "and they are usually yelling something clever like 'you won't take me alive' or 'you'll have to kill me first'".

"That could be," Christian agreed, looking back at Jim, who's face had turned a deep red with anger now and his jaw was clenched, "but Lori and I will be able to grab this fellow and bring him back without your help."

"Colonel Richmond," Jim growled, "asked that we do help you…"

"You are helping us," Lori added, smiling over the rim of her glass at her lips, "you're giving us a fast ride to California." She held Jim's glare, almost daring him to say something further.

Artie, disturbed by the sudden tension, quickly added, "We have five long days to travel and we have haven't even started yet so let's not try to decide now. I suggest a relaxing evening of getting better acquainted." He rose and waved a hand to the couches and chairs in the living room area of the varnish car. Breathing a sigh of relief, he stood back as the two girls moved away from the table carrying their glasses. Jim grabbed the open bottle of champagne and took a deep breath, exchanging a frustrated glance with his partner.

tbc


	4. Chapter 4 Drinking Party

Chapter 4 – Drinking Party

"Have you ever," Christian asked slowly, leaning forward in her chair, looking across a low coffee table to Artemus and then sideways toward Jim, "had to guard someone that you didn't want to protect?" She sipped at her glass, studying their faces closely.

Jim grumbled and exchanged a nervous glance with his partner. "Someone I wouldn't want to take a bullet for?" He said, sighing, "well, if you swear not to tell Colonel Richmond…"

"Yes," Artie said, waving his glace toward the dark-haired woman, "and I'll drink to that." He emptied his glass as everyone burst out laughing. "My turn," he announced, reaching for another champagne bottle on the table, "Do both of you…" he paused, winking at the girls, "have any strong dislikes for anything I might cook? Any foods that you really won't eat? Even if starving?"

"Really," Jim burst out, giving his partner a disgusted look, "that's your question? It's finally your turn again and that's what you thought of?"

"Yes, that's my question," Artie snapped, good naturedly, "and it's not your turn. And since I am still doing the cooking, I think it's an important question." He turned back to the girls, as they waited, patiently amused, for the discussion to turn back to them. "So, anything? Snails? Raw meat? Local vegetable?"

"I think I eat everything," Christian said, tipping her head to one side, thinking. "I can't think of anything…". She sat, twisted, in the wide wing-backed chair, her stocking feet tucked underneath her.

"No bugs," Lori announced, also emptying her glass. "I have seen people choke down food with bugs in it and no way," she said, shaking her head, waving a hand for emphasis. Jim chuckled next to her on the couch. "Otherwise, I think anything is fine."

"Snakes? Lizards?" Jim said, raising an eyebrow. He stretched, stifling a yawn, and positioned an arm along the back of the couch behind the blond woman.

"Not your turn, mister," Lori said, not answering him. She held her glass out to Artie, waiting for him to fill it. "My turn now." Jim snorted and held his breath. "Ok, how did you get this train? I want one too."

Jim sighed loudly, "another train question? Do you have some kind of issue about public transportation?" He paused as Lori glared at him, her lips silently saying, 'not your turn'. "Fine," he snapped, "I arrested a rich banker that moved around with this train, transporting stolen money, so it was confiscated by the Federal government. All this shit is his too; furniture, dishes, mirrors. Even his damn bed," he added, waving his wine glass at the walls as the girls dissolved into laughter, "though I put a new mattress on it. That seemed weird, I had to change it. But," he said, laughing now too, "you cannot go after people because they have something you want…"

"Says the man with a private train," Christian added into her glass as she emptied it.

"Oh, good one," Artie howled as Jim glared at her. His dimples gave away his amusement though. Artie jumped to his feet to refill her glass, thinking how she looked like a sleek black cat curled in a chair, looking at him with midnight blue eyes. The bottle was empty as she sat back in a chair again. "Excuse me, I have more cooling in the back." He hurried to the kitchen.

The group was emptying champagne bottles fast now, all attempts at manners and chivalry gone as they told stories, traded jokes and occasional insults, and learned more about each other. The men had removed their dinner jackets and neckties, unbuttoning neck collars and relaxing. The young women had removed heavy boots and sat with stocking feet tucked underneath them or propped on the coffee table, shirt sleeves rolled up, and strands of hair falling loose as they laughed and joked with the men. It had been Christian's idea to take turns asking questions to keep the conversation even, and to keep the men from bombarding them with interrogations.

Lori turned her pale eyes back to Jim and he added, "He was robbing from the bank of which he was President and a state government was involved so it got political. So we were sent after him. You should have seen Artie as an undercover bank inspector," he laughed as his partner re-entered the room with two more bottles of champagne. "He had everyone in a panic, pulling out paperwork, filling out forms while I found the evidence we needed. I thought someone would have a heart attack." He looked from one girl to another, "but this isn't all fun and games. We have to live here, running back and forth, transporting anyone and everyone. And animals like dogs, horses, and even an elephant."

"You transported an elephant?" Christian said, clearly suspicious.

"Is that your question," Jim asked, "because it's not your turn." His blue eyes twinkled at getting them back with a jibe. "And yes, we did."

Christian sat forward again, "no, I have another question planned so you go ahead first." Jim moaned and picked up a bottle, putting the cork puller into the cork. "Don't you have a question or are we skipping your turn?"

"Oh, no," he snapped, pulling the cork out and filling his glass. "I just want to refill my glass first. I expect a long and detailed answer for my question." He sat back on the couch and crossed his left foot onto his right knee, flinching slightly. Looking at Lori, he said, "ok, please explain to me how you two got this job as agents…in detail…from the beginning."

Lori held out her glass to him and waited while he filled it. Looking him in the eye, she leaned forward, "sure, I can tell you exactly how it started. I was with Julia Grant one day in the city when some guy grabbed her. Some guy she knew who thought he wanted to get," she paused, "shall we say, familiar, with her. So I smacked him off her. He then tried to get rough with me and I smacked him again and pounded him a little extra for good measure. Julia was upset so I took her home. She told her mother what happened, who then told dear old dad," she paused, taking a sip. "Then her father wanted to talk to me about what happened. So we had a long chat about how women should be taught how to protect themselves. The next time Julia went out to a social function, he asked me to escort her. So I did and eventually," she said, nodding to Christian, "we were both helping Julia and her friends. And then it spread into other females that needed protecting; daughters of various families." She sat back, "Colonel Richmond, at President's Grant request, offered to turn it into a more regular, paid position. We did some specific training about laws and how the Secret Service worked and here we are."

"You know Julia Grant personally?" Artie asked, obviously surprised.

"Really?" Lori snapped, turning to look at him. "That's what you got out of that story? That I am friends with Julia?"

"Ah," Artie said, unusually tongue tied. He sat back, physically retreating from the angry women as if mere inches would save him.

Christian broke in to diffuse her friend's anger. "All of us girls in the city socialize together. We have known Julia for a few years now. She is a sweet person, as is the whole family."

"Oh, ya," Jim said, making a point to agree, "President Grant is a sweetheart, right Artie?" He smiled back to Lori, trying to get her to talk again, "please, continue. How long have you done this work?"

Lori relaxed again, "almost two years now. This is our first assignment outside of Washington though. Usually we are just escorting women around the city, staying in hotels, going to dinner parties."

"Did you attend Julia's wedding?" Artie asked carefully.

"Yes, but as guests," Lori said, giving him an annoyed look again, "we didn't work that. We went as guests of the family since they didn't really expect any danger to her there."

"What? Not in the wedding party?" Jim said, feigning being shocked. "I really don't remember seeing you there," he said, a suspicious edge to his voice, looking at both of them, "either of you."

The two women exchanged looks with the two men, silence for a heart-beat, then Lori regained the story, "well we don't remember seeing you both there either. I imagine we were all dressed differently."

"You mean," Jim said, sarcastically, "you wore dresses? May I assume as a guest at the wedding you weren't dressed like this?" He made an obvious look up and down Lori's outfit.

"And what were you dressed as," Lori said, the pale eyes mocking him, "a waiter? Or maybe you were in the orchestra pretending to play an instrument?"

"Actually, Artie was in the orchestra," Jim laughed, "And I was a waiter. Not a very good one either. I keep ignoring people so I could walk around doing my job as security."

"But I wasn't pretending," Artie said, as he opened yet another bottle. "I was actually playing an instrument; violin actually. And who's question is it, officially. I have a question."

"Mine," Christian said as Jim started to protest. "I think you had a dozen questions on your turn, mister," she said, cutting him off. "But this question is for both of you anyway." She leaned forward, looking between them. "Do either of you speak other languages?"

Jim and Artie exchanged a tired glance, "you first," Artie said, sipping his drink.

Jim turned to her, "I speak some Mexican, enough to get by, and some American Indian,"  
he added, as the girls gasped in surprise. "Southwestern tribes like the Comanche, Apache, Navajo," he sighed, "well, many of them anyway." He grinned at his partner, "enough to get by."

"Yes," Artie added, "like when's supper and have you seen my horse."

"Oh, very funny," Jim growled, still grinning. "Ok, go ahead…"

Artie cleared his throat, "Polish, Yiddish, German, French, Italian, and Spanish." He paused, enjoying the shocked looks on the faces of the two girls. "Working on Russian and Mandarin." He paused again, waiting for a response. "And English, or course."

"Of course," Lori said. "Wow. May I ask what Mandarin is?"

"It's a dialect of Chinese. There are many of them that are quite different." Artie paused again, then added. "Once you learn one or two languages, the others come more easily, especially French, Italian, and Spanish. Those are very similar."

"Oh, of course," Lori snorted inter her glass. Jim chuckled next to her, shaking his head, "I really don't see how you keep them all straight. I struggle with English." She pointed her glass at Christian, "though she speaks French very well."

Artie turned to the dark-hair woman with obvious delight, speaking in careful French. Christian smiled and answered back, hesitant at first. He spoke again, pausing as she laughed.

"Ok, enough," Jim said, feeling left out and suspicious of what they were discussing. "No speaking French in front of others. Besides there are only a couple of languages you speak that are useful for our work. They rest are admittedly useless." His partner's darker eyes turned to glare at him. "Such as Yiddish? Have we ever once been attacked by Yiddish killers? No, or Polish? So those two don't really count."

"Don't count?" Artie spluttered, "What are you talking about?"

"And we all speak English," Jim said, waving his glass for emphasis, "So that one doesn't count either. What makes that now? Six languages? And two you're still not so good at yet." He shook his head in obvious disgust. "No, really, only four useful languages."

Artie stared at his partner in dead silence for a heart-beat, "so you'd be ok if I stopped speaking English to you? Is that what you're saying?"

"Ha, ha," Jim said. "Four", he repeated, holding four fingers up.

Artie turned back to Christian, shaking his head, and said something in French. She gave a short laugh, champagne choking her, as her hand flew to her mouth. "Ok, my turn again," he said, in English now. "Do you two eat Lobster?"

"Another food question," Jim moaned.

"Yes," both girls said, nodding. Christian added, "But I can't help cook them. It's too cruel, poor things." Jim just silently shook his head.

"Ok, my turn again," Lori announced with glee. She turned to Jim as he let out another grumble, "and it isn't a train question this time," shoving his shoulder and knocking him over slightly. "Do you two have any brothers or sisters?"

"What?" Jim blurted out, spitting his drink. "Why? What do you need to know that for?"

"Because it helps know how people think," Lori snapped back, twisting sideways to face him on the couch, "or why they think. Or how they treat others in their general life." She paused as Artie said something in French behind her back, causing Christian to burst into hysterical laughter again. Lori turned slightly, her grey eyes glaring at Artemus over her shoulder.

"Older sisters," Artie said quickly, suddenly switching back to English, "four of them." He nodded toward Jim. "Two brothers, much older." His words snapped out in mock fear as his eyes twinkled with amusement.

"And is that useful information for you?" Jim said, tipping his glass to his lips, muttering.

"Yes," Lori said, smiling again and sitting back on the couch. She put her feet on the coffee table and looked from one man to the other, "it tells me you both are the babies of the family and were probably spoiled by your mothers. It might explain a lot of crap I am sure you two will throw at us this coming week or two." She sipped her glass, ignoring their looks, and nudged Jim's elbow with hers, "Your turn."

Jim let out a long sigh, looking into his empty glass, obviously thinking. He looked up, first at Christian, across from him, and then turned to look at Lori next to him, "Do you two have any talents that could be useful this week? Any special skill? Anything…" he said, slowly, "useful?"

"I think I already described my skill," Lori said, nodding toward Christian, "we both train in martial arts for self-defense and so that we can defend the people we protect."

"Train in martial arts?" Artie said, curious. "I thought you just yelled at men and hit them with your purse or something." He wiggled his eye brows at her as she turned back to him.

"Jujitsu," Lori said, "Kyusho Jitsu, specifically, which concentrates on the many pressure points of the human body. Want to try me?" Artie shook his head, holding both of his hands up in mock fear, though his smile looked a little nervous now.

"Not right now," Jim said sarcastically. "And you," he asked, looking at Christian.

"I don't think I want to tell you," Christian said slowly. "I don't think you two would understand what I mean." She looked nervously at Lori, who was grinning and nodding encouragement.

The guys exchanged a glance and both watched her carefully. Artie sat forward, instantly intrigued. "You have us curious now so you can't stop with that comment. What is this talent?"

"Ya, try us," Jim laughed, also clearly interested.

Christian took a deep breath and said, "I can make myself invisible."

Artie stared at her, in stunned silence, his eyes wide as his mouth fell open. Jim sat up, dropping his boot off his knee to the floor with a dull plunk. "Invisible?" He carefully set his stemmed glass onto the coffee table and rose slowly, looking at Artie, "I'm switching to whiskey. This could take a while."

tbc...


	5. Chapter 5 Morning After

Chapter 5 – Morning After (just a short bit of fun)

"Good morning," Artie whispered to the blond as she peeked through the swinging door into the living room area of the varnish car. Sunlight was slanting bright rays of light through the windows causing Artemus to squint up at her. Her golden hair, hanging loose over one shoulder, glowed with the light as she stepped through the doorway. He pointed toward the couch and whispered again, "he's still sleeping."

Lori looked over at the couch, curious, but reached down to take the steaming cup of coffee offered. "How can he sleep through coffee?" she whispered, "It's what woke me. I was so comfy in that bed."

"You like our train better than the public one?" Artie leaned back in his chair, grinning up at her. "This can spoil you pretty fast. You will be ruined for life."

"This is a wonderful way to travel," she said, sipping the coffee. "Would you like help cooking breakfast? I'm good with scrambling eggs and burning toast."

Artie winced, shaking his head. He nodded toward the couch again. "When he wakes up, I'll cook some breakfast. I don't want to wake him if he's sleeping. He'll be grouchy enough sleeping on that short couch."

"What if I wake him?" She winked at Artemus and, turning with her mug, tip toed over to the couch. She paused behind the tall back to look down onto the sleeping form. She sipped her coffee and looked at Jim's bare feet, resting on one arm rest of the couch. Jim's head was on a pillow from his bed, twisted and wedged against the opposite arm rest. The middle of his body was covered with a thick blanket, except for his bare shoulders and back. Lori leaned over to peek at him closer, almost pouring coffee on him as she tipped her hand.

"Go away," Jim growled, his eyes still shut.

"If you're awake," she laughed, poking him in the side through the blanket, "you should just get up and drink some coffee with us. Your partner won't cook my breakfast if he thinks you're sleeping. I think he spoils you."

"I'm still sleeping," Jim said, an angry edge coming to his voice. "Go back to bed." The blanket moved by his chest and the small, grey, furry face of a kitten peeked out, looking up at Lori the round, dark eyes. The kitten's ears suddenly tipped back and it hissed angrily.

"Oh," Lori gasped, completely surprised, "that's a kitten. Why in the world do you have a kitten?" She reached over the couch to pat the fuzzy head and the kitten pulled back under the blanket. A tiny paw slide out and swatted at her hand. "Oh, fierce little thing, aren't you. Are you guarding Jim?"

"Stop," Jim growled again, "you're upsetting her."

"Oh, for heaven's sake," Lori said, walking back to Artie, who was watching from the table. "I give up. Your partner is lazy and has a vicious pet." She held her mug out and Artie refilled it. "He'll be mad when we drink all the coffee," she said over her shoulder toward the couch.

"It won't work," Artie laughed, "he knows I'll just make another pot. But I suppose I can cook breakfast now that he is officially awake." Jim groaned from the couch. "And be careful around that wildcat of his; she's a killer."

Jim moaned and sat up on the couch, holding the blanket around his waist. "Can't you people eat in the galley? This is my bedroom for a few days, after all." He picked up the kitten and held her in his open palms, speaking softly to her. "You should bite her; she isn't very nice. Bite her right in the toes." He put the kitten on the floor and stood up slowly, running fingers through his hair. He watched as the kitten bounced around his bare feet and then scampered to Artie.

"Come here, Sophie," Artie called, making squeaking sounds with his lips. He lowered a saucer of milk to the floor and the kitten knelt at its edge, licking the liquid. Artie patted the soft fur and pulled gently on the tiny tail. The kitten paused to look up at him, grey fur wet with white milk. "You're a mess, fuzzy. Maybe we should trim those whiskers." The kitten returned to the milk, the tiny tail twisting in the air.

"Why do you guys have a kitten?" Lori asked, as she watched the tiny animal.

"Rumors got out that we saw a mouse in the galley," Jim sighed, "so we were given a cat to catch the mice. However, so far, she has only caught large bugs like butterflies and horse flies."

"Well I don't like bugs either," Lori said, "but I do like butterflies. Otherwise, kill them all, that's what I say." She paused to look up at Jim from her seat in the chair. Her eyes went from his bare feet, up the crumpled blue pants, to his bare stomach and chest. She suddenly leaned closer to him, squinting at his skin. "What are all those white marks on you?" She pointed toward his stomach.

Jim stifled a yawn and looked down at himself. "What?" He said, blinking sleep away. "Oh, those marks would be knife cuts, stabs wounds, and an occasional gunshot wound." He looked down at Lori, "they tend to leave a mark, you know." He ran a hand over his stomach, pulling at his skin as he looked at the various scars.

"Oh, that's awful," Lori said, leaning away from him. "You were shot? Ouch," she shuddered, "you should put a shirt on. Yuck." She turned back to her coffee.

Artie burst out laughing as Jim glared down at her. "Well, I would if I could get into my room. I forgot to remove clean shirts and …" he stopped to turn his glare onto his partner, as Artie laughed even harder, wiping his face with a cloth napkin.

Suddenly Christian came out through the doors and paused, looking at everyone. "Good morning?" she said slowly, "did I miss something? Your room is empty; did you just say you needed a shirt?"

"Thanks," Jim snapped, stepping past her, quickly disappearing down the hall.

"Sorry," Lori said, giggling, "I didn't mean to upset him but I have never seen anyone that has been shot before. Have you been shot too?" She paused, to hand her partner a cup of coffee.

Christian sat down quietly, looking at Artemus, her cobalt blue eyes wide with alarm. Her black hair was loose, framing her pale face in a tumble of dark waves. "Oh, tell me you haven't been shot," she whispered.

"Oh, now," Artemus said, shrugging, "that's a dark topic for such a sunny morning. Let's empty this pot of coffee and I will start breakfast cooking. Eggs and sausage were on the menu, if I remember correctly." He filled all the cups, pouring the last bit into his, just as Jim returned. "Sorry partner, I will have to make you a fresh pot."

Jim stood, yawning, as his fingers fumbled with his shirt buttons. He managed to get the two in the middle attached. Giving up, he sat down at the table, running a hand across his face. He looked at the two girls, "were you comfortable in my room last night?" They both nodded, sipping at their cups. "And now you're drinking all my coffee. Where's Sophie? She is supposed to be biting you. Useless cat," he said, leaning over to pat the kitten's fur. The saucer was empty so he scooped her up into his hands, holding her against his bare chest. The kitten wiped her wet face on his shirt front, leaving wet stains. "She was all messed up last night. I saw her sneak down the hall after everyone went to bed. She stood at my closed door looking all confused. I had to bring her out with me at the couch."

"Why didn't we see her last night?" Christian asked, looking at the kitten.

"She hides when we have guests," Artie said, "especially if the party gets loud."

"Do you have a lot of loud parties on this train?" Lori asked, smiling from Artie and back to Jim. "What do you two do when traveling? Just hang out, watching out the windows?"

"I read, invent things, work on the train," Artie said, rattling off his list of activities. "Cook, mend clothes, play my violin. We can keep busy."

"Planning for the case is the most important," Jim said, grinning, "and occasionally we pick up a couple of cute girls."

"Really," Christian said, as Artie choked into his napkin. "While the train is moving? And then what, dump them off a couple of towns down the line?"

"Sure," Jim said, sarcastically, "we give them a couple of bucks to ride back on the public train." Artie muttered something under his breath as he rose with the coffee pot and moved toward the galley. "But since we are stuck with you two, the trains already a bit crowded, so I guess we'll just stick to maps and diagrams and plan for your big case." He grinned, the dimples softening his barbed comment. "Maybe we can decide what to do today and then talk further about these special skills you have." He snorted, holding the kitten to his face. "What do you think, Sophie? A girl that knows martial art fighting skills or one who can become invisible." The kitten meowed at him, licking her rough tongue on the end of his nose. Jim looked back at the two women, who were glaring back at him, "Sophie doesn't believe either of you."

Christian rolled her eyes and stood, taking her mug with her, and moved to the galley. "Sophie is a show me kitten," Lori said, returning Jim's stare, "I can see it in her eyes. Maybe we can demonstrate a few tricks after breakfast." Jim sighed and shook his head as Sophie meowed in agreement.

tbc


	6. Chapter 6 Fireworks Begin

Chapter 6 Fireworks Begin

Jim stood just inside the ramp in the stable car as Artie unhitched the black stallion's gate. He led it forward by its bridle as Jim released a lever, causing the ramp to lower to the ground secured on a heavy rope. He turned to the horse, stroking its dark neck, "want some fresh air, big fella?" He walked down the ramp with the horse following, onto the graveled edge of the rail line. He stepped back, giving the horse a gentle smack on the rump to move it forward, "don't go far." He watched the horse step into the shrubby grassland and begin nibbling on short greenery. The soft breeze blew Jim's hair as a buzzing bug flew past. He waved his hand at the insect and his horse shied slightly away from him. "You're all right," he said softly, calming it. "Sorry to disturb your lunch." He turned as Artie's brown horse trotted down the ramp and moved to stand by the black. "Think you can stay within sight today?" The horse snorted at him and began chewing at the dessert grasses.

"Don't you hobble them or hitch them to something?" Lori asked as she walked down the ramp holding the halters of her white horse and Christian's palomino.

"No," Jim said, "If a horse is too stupid to stay near its home, you should get a smarter horse." He grinned as he stepped past the horses and approached the engineer. "Cobb?" The older man turned to him, "how long are we stopping for?"

The engineer paused to take out his large watch, squinting at it, "another 26 minutes," he announced. He looked up as the large mettle spout turned from the wooden water tank to swing toward the back of the engine. The fireman standing on top of the train's tender grabbed the spout and guided it to an opening. He nodded and a man on the water tower pulled a lever. Water gushed from the spout into the train's water tank.

"That won't take long to fill at that rate," Lori said, stepping closer to Jim's side. She held a hand over his eyes, squinting into the sun to look up at the spout. "How many gallons of water?"

"This tender holds over a thousand gallons," Cobb said, "there are two tanks to fill underneath the fuel storage area on top. Won't take long but then we need to build the steam up again. And replenish the wood, of course, in the tender, as long as we are here. Hate to run low but we need to stay on schedule," he said, glancing at his watch again. "We have an Express following us for most of the day. Don't want to get hit in the back end."

Jim smacked Cobb's shoulder, "that would ruin the day," he said. He walked back to the ramp as Artie tossed a fork full of horse manure out of the car. "Partner, you look like a regular farm hand." Artie snorted at him and returned into the shadows of the stable car. Jim looked back at Lori as she watched men load wood while the water filled. "If you can pull yourself away, why don't you show me a few of those moves of yours?" Lori turned and approached, facing him. They were of equal height, he thought, and she seemed more solid and rugged than most women. Maybe it was the clothing, he mused, as his eyes wandered down her tight fitting pants.

Lori cleared her voice and waited for his eyes to meet her's again. "I suppose I could show you a few simple things without injuring you." She had a slow smile that seemed to hint of a secret that amused her.

"Injuring me?" Jim laughed, putting his fists on his hips. "Don't worry about that. I'm pretty tough."

Artie walked back to the ramp with another fork full of manure and tossed it aside. He leaned on the fork in the doorway, "this I gotta see." He grinned at Christian as she stood next to him.

"Lori," the dark haired girl said nervously, her hands still clutching a grain sack, "maybe you should take your boots off. Jim is a lot smaller than the guys we practice with and we are always in bare feet." Artie raised an eyebrow at her but stayed silent.

"Oh, no," Lori said, stepping even closer to Jim, her arms crossed over her chest, matching his glare, "Jim's a tough guy, with a good, thick skull. I'm sure a boot to the forehead wouldn't even leave a mark."

Jim laughed again, smiling, but his blue eyes watched her closely now. "So where do we start? I don't usually attack women…"

"But it isn't unheard of," Lori said, finishing his sentence, one eyebrow raised. "Why don't you just grab at something and see what happens." Before she finished speaking, Jim leaped forward, grabbing her right wrist in his firm grasp. He pulled her, trying to get her off balance. She took a big step forward as he backed up, and chopped the edge of her left hand down onto his wrist, apparently striking a nerve. He immediately let go and stepped back, shaking his hand. "Stings, doesn't it?" She grinned.

Artie leaned closer, surprised at his partner's obvious discomfort already. Christian, next to him, rubbed a hand over her eyes, muttering under her breath. Jim stared at Lori in silence, his eyes watching her body stance.

"Why don't you grab both my hands," Lori said, holding out her arms. "Try dragging me off again." She grinned as he hesitated. "I can't hit you back if you have both my hands."

Jim took a deep breath and grabbed both her wrists, firmly, watching her, ready to lunge away. Suddenly she ducked and spun, twisting her body effortlessly. He felt his arms yanked forward, taking his head and torso with them in a downward motion and something hit him in the side of the head, hard. Then he was on the ground, his nose in the gravel, with his ears ringing.

Lori stood near his face, leaning over, "you ok down there, tough guy?"

"I'm fine," Jim growled, angry now. He climbed to his knees and rubbed at the bump forming on the side of his head. Gravel was in his hair and the skin was scrapped but he didn't seem to be bleeding. He stood back up, facing her, wiping more gravel off his nose. "Interesting trick when you see the person coming at you. What about when they come up behind you and you don't know where they will grab you?"

Lori sighed and turned around, throwing her arms out at her sides, "Oh, my, what will happen to me without a male protector? I am a powerless female." Her taunt was interrupted as Jim wrapped his right arm around her shoulder and upper chest, his face pressing tight against the side of her neck. His left arm started to encircle her waist but suddenly he was in the air and then on his back with his right arm twisting painfully above his head. One of Lori's boots was on his shoulder, giving her leverage and keeping her body out of his reach. He grabbed up at her boot but she twisted his arm further, making him wince in pain. "Say Uncle," she said, laughing, as she released him.

"Oh, I do not believe what I'm seeing," Artie said from the ramp. He turned to Christian, stepping nervously back from her, "can you do this too? She flipped him over her shoulder? How can you two girls be that strong?"

"Its leverage, really," Christian said, "being small is actually better for these moves. The men we train with are twice Jim's size so he probably doesn't weigh much at all in comparison." She smiled sweetly, "I was more worried Jim would be injured." She turned to Lori as Jim slowly climbed to his feet. "We should probably stop before you pull a limb out of joint."

Jim shook his right arm, the pain in his shoulder trying to beat out the pins and needles he still felt in his wrist. "Why stop now, it's so interesting and enlightening," he growled. He ran a hand through his hair, shaking out bits of dry grass. "And what tricks do you have? Anything different?"

"Christian's tricks tend to be more on the serious side," Lori said, "since she is smaller than I am, she doesn't to do as many gymnastic style moves. More clean and damaging so it's more difficult to demonstrate."

"Ah," Jim said, nodding, but keeping his eyes on the dark haired girl, "but you do practice on those 'big guys' you keep mentioning?" Lori sighed and rolled her eyes behind his back as he stepped closer to the ramp. He looked at Christian, motioning her to come forward, "why don't you show me a thing or two also."

Christian's eyes nervously went from Jim to Lori. The blond held her hands up and made pulling motions with her fingers, obviously some silent hand signal. Christian nodded and walked down the ramp. "Ok, but don't say we didn't warn you."

"Should I get the box of bandages?" Artie asked nervously, keeping to his safe location of just inside the stable car. Lori winked up at him, moving to stand near his feet at the edge of the ramp as Jim and Christian faced each other.

Christian was a few inches shorter than Jim and Lori, and was of a much more slender frame. She stood quietly, crossing her arms in front of her chest. She turned slowly, facing Lori and Artemus, "go ahead, Jim, sneak up behind me and grab me anywhere you like."

"I don't usually get so many offers in one morning," Jim said slowly, as he walked behind her. With a shrug he wrapped both arms around her waist and simply picked her up. "Now what," he laughed, and then, with a yelp of pain, he dropped the girl and fell to his knees. He gasped and held his right hand to his gut, covering it with his left hand.

"What the…?" Artie leaped off the edge of the car, not bothering with the ramp, as the two girls also hurried to Jim's side. "What?" he said again, kneeling next to his partner.

"Sorry, I shouldn't have," Christian said, sounding upset at herself, "give me your hand so I can…"

"Get away from me," Jim growled through clenched teeth. Sweat beaded on his forehead and his hair hung in his eyes. "You broke my damned fingers."

Artie looked up at the girls to see Lori laughing silently behind her fingers. Christian knelt next to Jim and put a hand on his shoulder, saying calmly, "it isn't broken, it's dislocated. If you give me your hand, I can fix it." He slowly held his hand out to her, grimacing in pain. The pinky finger of his right hand stuck out at an odd angle. Artie clamped his hand onto Jim's shoulder, shocked at the terrible looking injury. The young woman took his hand in her's and grasped his wrist and finger. With a twist, a loud snap was heard. Jim groaned again and took his hand back. "Can you move your fingers now?"

Jim opened his hand and closed it again, making a fist. The sharp pain had turned to a dull ache and the skin was turning a dark color near the knuckle. He took a deep breath and slowly stood, looking at the two women. "That's probably enough for today. I think the train will be ready soon." The girls both walked away, an awkward silence heavy now between them, and began to gather the horses. Jim turned to his partner, "I think I almost lost my right arm a couple of times. Christ, Artie," he hissed, trying to flex his sore hand and shoulder, "I'm not sure what hurts more; my hand or my shoulder."

"How about your head?" Artie asked, clearly surprised to see his partner in pain. "She actually kicked you in the side of the head while standing in front of you. And then she flipped you over her shoulder. Picked you right up off the ground and…"

"Ya, I know," Jim hissed again, "I was there." They paused as the girls walked the horses back up the ramp into the stable car. "I feel like I'm riding on a crazy train to hell." He staggered forward up the ramp with his partner pushing him forward from behind. Once inside, Artie pulled the rope and, with the help of the block and tackle, quickly picked up the ramp. He pulled the train's cord, making the whistle blow three short bursts. The engineer blew three long bursts and the train moved forward, sluggishly at first, then picking up speed.

Lori watched Artie release the cord, "So you have a cord that blows the whistle, like on a public train, but you have a set of whistles for Cobb to understand what you want?"

"Three shorts mean go," Artie winked, "and he blows three longs, meaning go is understood. If we need him to stop, we blow two shorts and he would blow two longs, saying he understands. Of course we can also just pull the cord for the emergency brakes, making one long whistle as the breaks lock up."

"And sometimes," Jim added, as he walked past them toward the varnish car, "Cobb just slams on the breaks and we all go sliding forward with no warning at all." He held the door open as everyone moved to the back of the car.

"What sort of emergencies do you have to stop for?" Christian asked, looking worried.

"Oh, all sorts of things," Artie said, "a herd of buffalo on the rails, evil-doers burning piles of wood on the rails hoping to rob us when we stop," he paused as Jim nodded, chuckling, "and one time we actually had a real damsel in distress tied to the rails, hands and feet."

"What?" The girls both turned to look at him, obviously not believing the story.

"It's true," Jim said, "Luckily we weren't going very fast but Cobb still stopped this train on a dime. I didn't think it was possible. Another six inches would have cut her in half." He reached out to the back wall to pull down a map, continuing, "she was passed out in fright and Cobb wasn't much better. But everyone was fine once we untied her and woke her up."

"And after a shot of brandy for everyone involved," Artie said, "we learned that she was a kidnapped daughter of a local mayor. He was very happy to have her back. Local authorities had already captured her kidnapper but hadn't been able to find her."

"Well, I guess they should have searched the rails," Lori said. "I thought that only happened in books." She walked closer to Jim and peered up at the map. "Do you have one that isn't attached to a wall?"

"Why?" Jim said, looking at her out of the corner of his eye, "is your neck sore? Or maybe your back?" He ignored her smile and opened a cupboard. Assorted rolled up maps were nestled inside. He dug through the group and finally pulled one out. "Clear the table, will you?" He unrolled the paper and laid it out flat. Lori and Christian moved a few heavy objects to hold the corners down and leaned over with him. "This is where we are," Jim said, pointing to a spot on the map. "This is where we are going," he said, as he drew his fingertip along the lines on the map. "Eventually through St Louis, Kansas City, Denver, Salt Lake City, and on to San Francisco." He stood and shook his right hand, grimacing at the pins and needle feeling in it. "Too bad we're in a hurry. There are many good restaurants, dance halls, parks to walk in."

Christian and Lori exchanged a glance, "not this trip, dreamer," Lori said, running a finger along the route, "and we can do all this in five days?" She shook her head, "it would take us over a week by public train. This is such a great way to travel."

"An Express will get you a bit faster," Artie said, walking to the group. "In fact we seem to have one behind us now, if you look behind us." He looked at Jim, "it seems to have caught up to us."

"Oh, great," Jim muttered. He moved to the back door of the varnish car and walked outside to the back railing. In the distance, occasionally puffs of smoke could be seen. The two girls soon stood on either side of him. "We're faster than they are," he said. "They have passenger cars and baggage and express mail. They only caught up because we loaded water and wood."

"But they must have stopped too," Lori said. "It wouldn't hit us, would it? They can see our smoke too."

"Hasn't happened yet," Jim said. "They may stop at the first major city. We pass through a few in the night. And they can see the train in the dark with our lanterns on and sparks from the engine. I'll let Cobb know; maybe we can go a little faster."

"Hate to be in the way of an Express," Artie chuckled, standing at the map by himself now. Jim walked past, moving toward the engine. "They do not have understanding passengers." The girls moved back to the table and sat down to study the map.

"Do you have one of San Francisco itself?" Lori asked Artie, nodding toward the cupboard.

"There should be one in there," Artie said, digging back into the cupboard." More maps were spread on the table as the group spent the afternoon discussing options and plans for the future.

Later that afternoon:

Sophie jumped at the corner of the white bath towel as it hovered and fluttered just out of her reach. The tiny animal stood on her back paws and stretched, clawing at the air. Frustrated, the kitten jumped onto Jim's bare leg, tiny claws digging into his skin, as she began climbing.

"Ow," Jim yelled, dropping the towel. He leaned down to pull her off his skin, gently tugging at each paw to release the needle-sharp claws. "What are you doing? That's my skin," he said, pushing his wet nose into the tiny creature's furry chest. The kitten batted at his face and wiggled in his grasp. "I thought I explained the difference between pants and skin." He leaned down and plopped her back onto the floor. The kitten pounced onto the crumpled towel, hiding in its folds. "Fine, keep it," Jim said. He walked to a cupboard and pulled out another towel. He wrapped it around his waist and moved to the sink. Keeping one eye on the kitten's movements and one on what he was doing, he grabbed up his shaving mug and added soap and water, stirring with the fine brush. He wiped the steam off the mirror and began foaming his face, working it into his skin. "You don't need to be with me every second, Sophie," Jim said sternly at the towel, "you could follow Artie around occasionally. He will feel sad that you neglect him." The kitten's ears poked out of the towel, and soon the head lifted enough for the dark eyes to watch him. "You should go find Artie," Jim said, wondering if the cat could really understand him. Suddenly the kitten bolted from the towel and scooted underneath the door. "Crazy cat," Jim chuckled, starting to shave. Soon there was a knock on the bathroom door. "What?" he snapped, annoyed at sharing his bathroom. "I'm shaving, go away." He rinsed the razor in the sink, quickly checking his face in the mirror.

"I need to use the facilities," Lori's voice said. "Trade for your bedroom?"

Jim leaned over and picked up the towel off the floor, quickly wiped bits of shaving soap off his face, and opened the door. "Is my bedroom empty?" He tossed the spare towel over his shoulder and stood in the doorway, blocking Lori's way.

"I wouldn't invite you in if it was occupied," Lori said, trying to keep her eyes off his bare chest, feeling the heat emanating from his steaming wet body. "So, are you done in here? I want to take a quick shower too. You take longer than I do." She held a bundle of clothing under her arm, her hair twisted in a loose knot on her head. Soft tendrils of hair fell loose around her face.

"It's my bathroom," Jim growled, though the dimples flashed briefly, "you're lucky you can use it at all." He stepped to the side, letting her enter, and moved back to the doorway. He stood in the hallway now, with a hand on either side of the doorjamb, leaning toward her, "besides," he said quietly, the blue eyes twinkling, "If we both used the shower at the same time, it would be faster and take less water."

Lori dropped her clothes on the caned seat and pulled long pins from her hair. The thick blond waves fell around her face and shoulders. Seeing his eyes watching her, she stepped closer, putting her hands on the door frame near his, her nose almost touching his nose. Her pale grey eyes stared deep into his. She whispered, "Really? You think you and I in the shower together would be fast?" She snorted, "Interesting." She turned and shut the door.

Jim rested his head against the wooden door, listening to the sounds of the water running and the shower curtain moving. Letting out a long sigh, he moved down the hall.

Jim entered his room and shut the bedroom door, leaning his bare back against it, and took a deep breath, enjoying the silence. The walls were thick with bureaus and closets, the clothing helping to muffle sounds from the adjoining rooms. He turned and locked the door, not wanting to surprise Christian if she should happen in. He pulled the towels off and stretched his sore muscles, flexing his arms and shoulders. He twisted his right wrist and flexed his fingers, surprised at how sore his hand still was. He walked to his large mirror, gifted by the secretaries, which hung over a low bureau. He rubbed a hand through his wet hair, pulling at it, looking for a black mark at the location where Lori's boot had kicked him. Skin was scuffed and it was sore, but no bruise was present. "Guess it didn't leave a mark," he laughed. Pulling a drawer open, he dug out underclothes. Then he moved to a closet, recessed in the wall, and pulled out a small rack of white shirts. Grabbing one, he began to dress, his eyes noting what was moved in his room and the extra items added. The bed was made and women's clothing was neatly folded and stacked in various locations; the room seemed neat and clean. Hairbrushes, combs, and more hair pins were piled on top of a bureau. He was relieved that no dreaded perfume bottles were present. Suddenly the door was knocked on, "What," he snapped, "leave me alone."

"I'm done already so you can have the bathroom again if you need it," Lori said, laughing, "are you getting dressed?"

"No, I'm busy rubbing your clothes all over me," Jim growled, "what the hell do you think I'm doing?" He pulled his shirt on and fumbled with the buttons, stopping to stretch his sore right hand.

"You better not be touching anything of mine," Lori snapped back, still laughing at him, "your partner was getting ready to serve dinner and wondered if you were decent yet."

"Yes, I'll be right there," Jim said. Grabbing clean pants from the bureau, he sat on the side of the bed to pull them on. Then leaned back and relaxed on the quilt, sighing deeply. "I miss my bed," he moaned. He relaxed for a minute but the smells of his partner's cooking was filling the small train car and making his empty stomach protest. He rose and moved into the hallway.

Lori moved toward the smells of meat cooking to stand in the hall, looking into the galley. "Am I missing a cooking class? Or is this a private lesson?" Christian was standing at the stove stirring a large pot with a long-handled wooden spoon. Artie stood on the far side, arranging meat on a platter.

Christian turned to wink at her friend; her normally pale face was flushed with the heat of the stove. She pointed at a book on the counter, "look at the page. He has books of how to cook. It has the directions of what we just made." She nodded down at the pot she was stirring, "I am reducing this liquid. It's like making gravy, only better."

Artie laughed as Lori picked up the book. "I can't believe you two never heard of a cook book. No wonder you don't cook. It makes it much easier." He pointed to a low shelf, "I have a shelf full of them, if you want to look through them, though my French cook book seems to be long gone, for some odd and suspicious reason."

Lori's eyes quickly scanned the page and looked at the pots. "Wow, this is amazing," she blurted out. "My mother has everything memorized and she expects me to remember all the ingredients and what she says or does. I could do it this way," she said, turning the pages. "Look at all this!?"

Jim stepped to the doorway in time to hear the conversation. "I expect you two to pull your weight now and give Artie a hand cooking and cleaning," he said, trying to sound stern. "Maybe you can learn enough on this trip to give up this crazy lifestyle and settle down." The two girls turned glaring eyes on him as his partner chuckled, shaking his head. "And I also would like to see this disappearing act tonight," Jim said, looking pointedly at Christian.

"Maybe she can make you disappear," Lori said, putting the book down. "Haven't you had enough for one day?" She turned to face him, fists balled on her hips.

"Let's make dinner disappear," Artie said quickly, seeing another argument forming. Fireworks were beginning to be a constant threat between Jim and Lori. "And scoop up Sophie; I don't want her by the hot stove. I don't need a singed furball". Jim leaned over and looked on the floor, his eyes scanning for the kitten. "She's in the box," Artie said, nodding toward the shelf in front of Lori.

Jim stood up and leaned over the counter, seeing the kitten in a small wooden box. The tiny form was curled into a ball but the head was up and the dark eyes watched him. "What is she doing in there? She should be on the floor looking for a mouse." At Jim's voice, the kitten stood up and meowed loudly. "Yes, you," Jim said, "need to find a mouse." The kitten meowed again, moving to stand on her back paws and stretching her front paws out to him. "Oh, fine, you little freeloader." He picked her up carefully and held her against his chest, patting her head. "It still doesn't explain why you were in an old box," he purred to her, walking to the dining room.

Artie was setting the platter of meat onto the table as the girls sat down. He straightened to watch Jim enter, "because she won't stay on the floor. Every time I say the word mouse she looks nervously under the stove and then cries to be picked up. And when I put her on the counter she wants to run around on the stove. Christian suggested putting a box on the shelf and she jumped right in."

The girls giggled, "cats love boxes," Christian said. "I think you two might be spoiling her."

"My mother never let cats in the house," Lori added, watching Jim sit down and lower the kitten to his lap. "Why don't you give her a plate at the table?"

"I would but you're sitting in her spot," Jim said, watching the kitten stand on his thighs and try to climb onto the table. "Sit," he said, gently putting her back in his lap. The kitten immediately hopped up and swiped at his plate, the tiny paw stretching out. "Ok, hold on," he said, putting some small pieces of chicken on a bread plate. He put the plate on the floor and lowered Sophie down. "Though I should give you raw meat, maybe you would get the idea." The kitten immediately began chewing on the chicken. Jim straightened in his chair to see everyone watching him. "What? Maybe if she grows a little more, she won't be afraid of mice."

Artie rolled his eyes as he handed Jim the platter. "Here, eat some before the girls take it all," he said, winking at Lori and Christian. "Between them and Sophie, I need to get to a store before we travel much farther."

"We stop tomorrow afternoon," Jim said, "which would be a good time for more demonstrations." He held the platter as Lori tried to take it, winking at her, "unless you two would both like to disappear tonight? You could transfer to that Express." He released the plate as she rolled her eyes.

"I was thinking about more questions to ask you two," Lori said, "another round of last night's game?" Artie grumbled something as he picked up a bowl of vegetables, stirring them.

Jim groaned, "What now? My favorite color or what books I've read?" He leaned over to give the kitten a soft piece of carrot, "how about a card game with limited talking? Something entertaining like strip poker?" He grinned as the girls glared at him. "We play a lot of card games while traveling. It's relaxing."

"If you two play strip poker," Christian said, raising an eyebrow at Artie, "I don't want to know about it." Lori snorted as Artie handed around the bowl.

"I think am exciting game of cribbage would be much safer," Artie said, looking between Jim and Lori. "I imagine you two could argue enough about that to keep you occupied." Jim and Lori exchanged a look. "And I can tell you about my disappearing acts. I used to work as a magician, you know."

The girls turned to him, both clearly interested, as Jim groaned, leaning over to pick up the kitten. "You can help me play cards tonight, Sophie," he said, putting her back in his lap. The kitten curled up in a ball on his lap and yawned, the tiny tail curling around the delicate face, "All right, you rest now while I eat," he patted her head as he picked up his fork again. He looked up to see everyone staring at him again. "What?"

tbc


	7. Chapter 7 Planning Ahead

Chapter 7: Planning Ahead

"Good morning, James," Artemus said, walking into the dimly lit stable car. He was carrying an empty wooden bucket and speaking softly, "I thought I heard you walk past my door. Up early?" His horse whinnied to him as he spoke, as the other horses watched Jim.

Jim let out a long sigh, hooking a feed bag over Blackjack's face. "Since I don't have a bed," he said tiredly, "I was awake most of the night." He sighed again, "The couch is getting old." He picked up a horse brush and began stroking it down the animal's back.

Artie chuckled, slapping his friend on the back as he passed in the small space, "I told you to sleep in my room. If I had known you were awake, I would have traded accommodations earlier. I needed to work at the desk but didn't want to wake you."

"Thanks, I may just take you up on that later," Jim said. He brushed the black's dark mane, working the hairs until they were perfectly aligned, the movement more of a relaxation for himself than improving the horse's already perfect appearance. "I admit that it was probably this crazy job more than the couch keeping me awake. I just can't figure out what to do and we only have today and tomorrow left to decide. We should be in the city by tomorrow night."

"There isn't much we can decide, partner," Artie said. He rested the bucket on the edge of a large wooden box and began moving small pieces of kindling into it. "We can only react to what the girls decide to do. We can't control them or, apparently, even influence them in what they plan. I suspect they have something planned too. We just have to go along with it."

Jim grumbled something, turning to look at his partner, "you can't be serious, Artie," he hissed. "We have to convince them to do what's right, stay on board the train and let us find this guy, and not go into the city alone." Artie shrugged as he shoved more pieces into the bucket, slamming a few pieces down with an angry punch. "How did Colonel Richmond think this was a good idea? It's crazy. He should have talked to us about this first."

"Colonel Richmond doesn't care about our opinions," Artie said, turning to face Jim. "He told us very clearly what he wanted us to do. Protect them. I don't remember him asking if we thought it was a good plan or not. And Grant wouldn't care about our opinions either. He loves it when we agree with him, but not so much when we disagree." He took a slow breath, thinking, "Christian said she and Lori have been doing this work for almost two years. I think they are going to do what they want when we get to San Francisco. We need to make sure it doesn't turn into a disaster."

"I could keep them on the train by tying them to something," Jim said, grinning. "Though I might need help. I have to admit, they seem pretty tough, for girls, that is." He held his right arm out, twisting his wrist and shoulder, testing his muscles and joints.

Artie laughed quietly, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall. "I was surprised at how much trouble you were having yesterday. Lori seems very strong. She really tossed you around."

Jim grimaced, turning to remove the feed bag from his horse, "it's not like I could punch her in the head, like I would have if I was fighting a man. I'd break her face."

Artie laughed again, "I would give you a dollar to try." He picked up the bucket and turned to leave, pausing, "I think I will have an outfit handy, put it on as they are leaving so they don't see me becoming someone else. Then I can follow them without their knowledge. Maybe you can distract them for a minute or two, get them away from my room, start an argument. That shouldn't be too difficult."

"I'll be with them," Jim growled, moving the refilled feed sack to Artie's horse. "They don't leave this train without me; you can follow in the shadows out of sight. And if they split up, we each follow one." He took a deep breath and stretched his shoulders, "but this would still be easier if we knew what they were thinking of doing. Every time I try to get details Lori clams up and Christian turns into a worst smooth talker than you."

Artie grinned, "I was going to suggest you do something besides drill them with questions. It just makes them even more defensive. Where are your smooth manners, your whispering sweet nothings into a delicate ear?"

Jim laughed, "I guess I should change tactics, treat them like a beautiful yet dangerous criminal of the weaker sex." He paused, thinking, "we should get them separated. Then maybe we could convince them to be more friendly and trusting of us. Ideas?"

"I am full of ideas, James, my boy," Artie laughed, smacking Jim on the shoulder. "I'll take the gentler one, you get the crazy blond."

"Gentler? You better watch your fingers, partner, and keep your hands to yourself," Jim said, watching his partner move to the doorway of the stable car. "God, Richmond owes us a vacation after this one. Worse mess ever."

Jim turned back to the horses as Artie walked back into the varnish car. He finished brushing them and making sure they were all fed and watered, his mind turning over different ideas and possibilities as he worked. Eventually he also walked back into their living quarters. He paused in the bathroom to wash and heard the voices of the two women, awake and moving around in his room. He moved back to the hall and knocked on the bedroom door.

Lori opened the door, smiling, her blond hair spilling over her shoulders and her pale eyes looking out from a flushed face. "Good morning." Christian was sitting, cross-legged, on the floor behind her, her usual pale skin was also red and sweaty. "Can we help you?"

Jim paused, looking from one woman to the other. "I just wanted to say I fed your horses already," he paused again, "what are you two doing in here anyway?"

"Exercising," Christian moaned, "or trying to. I am not good at this. I just need to stretch." She leaned her upper body so it was touching an outstretched leg, her fingers grasping her toes. She held the stretch as Jim watched, curiously.

Lori turned to her, "no, try again, five more." She dropped to the floor, face down, on her hands and toes. "Come on, let's go," she urged, starting to do push ups. Christian moved to imitate her but could barely force her body to move up and down. She finally collapsed to the carpet, moaning again.

Jim burst out laughing as he watched the dark haired girl, "you are terrible. These exercises are for men though so you shouldn't be…," he paused, turning to watch Lori. The blond was easily rising and lowering herself with her arms. "You can actually do push ups," he said, leaning over to watch her more closely, obviously impressed. He looked at her toes, up her legs and back, and then to her arms again, "I have never heard of a woman doing exercises."

Lori paused, to look back at him, "you obviously hang with lazy women. Why don't you join us instead of watching and show us how a real man does it." Her smile deflated the taunt.

Jim grinned and dropped quickly to the hallway floor, his head in the doorway of the small room. "A real man only needs one arm," he bragged, starting to do the push ups with his right arm. His left arm was curled around his back and his body twisted slightly as he moved his chest down to the floor. His white shirt hung open, only a few buttons attached, showing glimpses of his chest muscles flexing as he moved. At the same time his arm and shoulder muscles bulged where the cloth fit tighter around his upper arms. "Maybe you can build up to this eventually." He switched arms and continued.

"You have me beat," Christian laughed, returning to sitting on the floor. Lori watched Jim closely and then started to imitate him. "I'm impressed, Lori! All that haying must make you strong!"

Jim stopped to look at Lori, "haying?" He watched her move up and down, nodding encouragement, and started doing the movement with her.

"It's summer," Lori growled, as she pushed herself up on her right arm, her left arm wrapped around her back as Jim had done. "My family has a farm. I help hay occasionally."

"Never did that," Jim said, pausing again to watch her. "You certainly are strong, for a girl." He smiled as the blond collapsed to the floor and glared up at him. Artie stepped out of the kitchen, wiping his hands on a towel, curious.

"What's going on out here," Artie asked, walking to the doorway to peek in. "Are you showing Jim how to do it? You'll never beat him; he does this constantly."

"You should join us, partner," Jim said, returning to his one handed push ups. "Good for you. Just start two handed and …"

"I can do it just fine," Artie said, interrupting. "I am just too busy doing everything else."

Jim paused, laughing, "Really? You can do a push up? I bet!" He switched hands and started again.

Artie crossed his arms and watched for a second. "What do you want to bet?"

"What?" Jim stopped and moved to his knees, looking up at his friend. "Bet if you can do a push up?" He chuckled, as Artie continued to stare at him. "You want to bet that you can do a push up? How many? One handed? Two handed?" He laughed, obviously surprised.

Artie thought for a minute, "I will bet you dish washing today that I can do five with each hand."

"What?" Jim said, his voice rising in surprise. "You? Fine, if you can't, you take care of the horses today." The two men stared at each other for a second, then Jim added, "and this is five per arm right now. Not one push up every hour today."

Artie tossed the towel at Jim's face and lowered himself down to his knees. "No, right now." He paused, looking at Jim. "Bet?" Jim nodded and chuckled again. The girls peeked out from the bedroom doorway, watching closely. Artie leaned over, holding himself up with his right arm, curling his left around his back, and began slowly doing push ups, counting loudly. When he reached five, he switched arms, and began again. His form wasn't nearly as perfect as his partner's and he moved with agonizing slowness, but he was still accomplishing the task. Jim watched in silence, his mouth hanging open.

Finally Artie reached five again and moved back to his knees to stare at Jim, "There! You lost another one," he said, grinning, "and enjoy washing dishes today."

Jim groaned, shaking his head. "ok, you got me. Again. Have you been practicing in secret? I am really impressed."

"I might have," Artie said, climbing to his feet and walked to the kitchen, "I think I will cook lasagna for dinner." He disappeared into the galley's doorway but a cheerful whistling drifted into the hallway.

"Oh, great," Jim moaned, "I know what I'll be doing all afternoon. Why do I bet with him?" He turned to see the two girls staring at him. "You two better do more push ups. That lasagna will fatten you right up." He stood and walked into his room, brushing past Lori to move to his closet. He reached inside and began moving items, searching, "Unless you two are interested in more entertaining forms of exercise?" His voice was muffled as his head and arms were in the closet.

"Don't you think it's a little early for comments like that?" Lori said, glaring at him. "I haven't even had breakfast and you are already making suggestions of…"

Jim straightened and tossed a pair of shoes at her. They landed between the girls and bounced across the floor. He stood, looking down at her, hands balled into fists on his hips. "I was suggesting we go for a run this morning as exercise." He grinned as her face flushed again, "what were you thinking of?" Lori looked away to study the shoes, turning them over curiously. "Those are baseball running shoes. I had a guy make me a couple pairs. They should fit you but wear a good pair of socks."

Christian picked up the other shoe, "I have never seen anything like these? Leather? And they look like they tie on with strings? Nice and light though," she said, tossing the shoe up in the air. "Where are you running? Just behind the train?"

"Yes," Jim said, turning back to the closet. "There is a five mile stretch of flat ground I always run on. Then we climb steeply into the mountains through a pass." He stood up again, holding the second pair, "so you have to be able to get back onto the train. Think you can do it?" He stared at Lori as she stood, holding the shoes. She took a step closer to him in the small room, staring back.

"If you can do it, big shot," she smiled, "so can I." She poked him in the chest with a shoe. "Maybe we should make a bet?"

"Oh, no," Jim said, moving around her to exit the room, saying over his shoulder, "I'm in enough trouble already."

tbc


	8. Chapter 8 Separate Advances

Chapter 8: Separate Advances

Jim stood in the gravel of the rail bed, squinting up at the clear blue sky. It was still early morning but the sun's brightness was already oppressive. He watched Lori jump down to the ground from the steps of the slow moving train. "I see you've been into my bureau," he said as she approached. He looked at her shoes, making sure they were tied on snug to her feet, and then studied the pants she wore, his soft cotton pants. The hems were rolled up and tucked to keep them off the ground. His eyes strayed higher to his button-up cotton shirt she was wearing. A tighter undershirt underneath showed at the neckline.

"Your clothes are so comfortable and light," she said, stroking her hands down her thighs, smoothing the material. "I figured since I was wearing your shoes, I might as well go with the entire outfit." She paused to look at his legs, giggling, "and what are you wearing? Looks like you were attacked by a rabid animal."

"What?" He said, looking at his legs. His pants were cut off just above the knees, showing his muscular thighs and calves. One pant leg was longer than the other and both were cut at an angle with loose threads hanging everywhere. "I had old pants and hacked the legs off. Cooler." He squinted at the train as it pulled away from them, gliding slowly over the rails. "We better get moving before we are left behind. Have you ever run any distance before?"

"Oh, many times," she said, as they both started a slow jog. "Never along a rail road track though. Too difficult to run on the ties and ours in the east where my parents live went through the woods so there wasn't space on the sides. But the land has trails and back roads where no one bothers me."

"Bothers you?" Jim asked, stealing a sideways glance at her. "Do people bother you when you're running or just all the time in general?" The sun was already hot on his skin and sweat was starting to drizzle down his face.

"We are discussing running," Lori said, "I can't run in Washington DC; I would be arrested for indecent exposure. Do you know there's a law against women wearing pants? It's crazy! Most of the police know me now but at first, they kept trying to arrest me for not wearing a dress! Colonel Richmond had to speak to the Chiefs of some precincts to ask them to leave me alone."

Jim burst out laughing, "I know that law and was wondering how you got around it. It's called dressing outside of your gender or sex or something like that." He looked at her again, as she jogged easily next to him, "you don't know the police in San Francisco and I doubt the Colonel contacted anyone. Did you bring a dress? I am not walking the streets with you when you're dressed like that."

"Who said you're walking the streets with me," Lori said, sending him a quick glare.

He shook his head, "Colonel Richmond did. I am supposed to be watching out for you and bring you back, both of you, in one piece. It would be easier if you cooperated with me."

"I'm cooperating," she said, picking up her pace. Jim easily matched it, watching her, as they ran side by side silently for a few minutes.

"So tell me about this farm you grew up on," he said, changing the subject. "Large, small, tobacco, corn…" he paused, waiting for her to speak.

"My parents' farm," she said quietly, "it's larger than some and smaller than others. They grow corn, grains, hay," she paused, thinking, "everything except tobacco. My parents don't like smoking and didn't want to make money from it." Jim nodded, keeping her pace. "My brothers run it now but my father still does some work outside. The oldest lives in the house and will inherit most of it. The second oldest is good with the tools and equipment and keeps everything working. My two youngest brothers work the fields and chase the neighborhood girls." Jim laughed but didn't comment. "And how about you? You didn't grow up on a farm."

Jim ran a few steps before answering, "No, it wasn't a farm. My father always had horses in the fields but it was just a house and barns. My father worked for the government in an office so we lived a short ride outside of Washington. He was a civilian assistant in the war veteran's office."

"Was he a veteran?" Lori asked, curious.

"Yes, he had been an officer in the Mexican war and was wounded," Jim said, "He had a bad leg. He could ride horses but had a difficult time walking. But he went into the city every day and worked in his office. I don't think he ever missed a day of work. I used to go with him and then ran around the city."

"City boy," Lori laughed quietly. "And what do your brothers do?"

Jim took a deep breath, "the oldest, Edward, is a lawyer. And the middle brother, Michael, is a doctor. They live in Washington too. I see them occasionally but this job keeps me pretty busy."

"A doctor and a lawyer?" Lori said, sounding impressed, "they must be very smart. And here you are, just a lonely secret agent." Jim snorted. "Do you tell people what you do? I have said I protect female dignitaries and visitors; keep it simple."

"I thought that was all you did anyway," Jim said, surprised, "and in Washington. Richmond said this was your first job outside of the city. Do you chase people down and arrest them too?" He noticed she was smiling and waited for more details. "Just women though, right," he prompted again.

"You are the worst," she laughed, punching his shoulder. "I arrest people, men and women."

"How can you possibly arrest a man?" Jim said, looking down her slim frame. Lori glared at him and increased her speed again, pulling ahead. Jim easily increased his speed again but was content to follow her, enjoying the view of her moving in front of him.

Meanwhile….in the galley…

"I do have this memorized," Artie said, smiling to Christian, "but I also have it printed in a cook book." He handed Christian a small book with a light brown cover speckled with dark stains.

The dark haired girl opened the book and flipped the pages. "Wait," she said, smiling down at him as he squatted in front of a low cupboard. He moved pots around, banging them together and muttering. "I think this is in Italian?" She moved a delicate index finger along the words, "And you have notes on the edges that are in French?"

Artie stood, holding a frying pan and a tall pot, and smiled, "I tend to cook in French, no matter what I'm making. If you can read my writing, it may help you understand the Italian words. The languages are very close, you will pick it quickly. He put the pan on the stove and moved to the sink to add water to the pot. "Did you find the lasagna recipe? I can tell you what to do but I thought you might like to refer to it." He moved to put the pot onto the stove behind the pan and opened the front fire box, adding more kindling. "Have you eaten a variety of Italian dishes?" He stood again and cleaned the wood chips off his vest.

"Oh, I think so," Christian said, her blue eyes moving from the book to look up at him. "We have friends that own restaurants in the city so we eat everything and anything. Never look a gift horse in the mouth, right?"

"You sound like starving gypsies," Artie said, stepping closer to her. He reached out to place his palms underneath her elbows, gently pulling her towards him. "You do have a home, right? A place to sleep at night that's safe, behind a locked door?"

She smiled up at him, resting her free hand on his chest. "Yes, of course we do. We aren't penniless orphans sleeping in an alley. You don't have to worry about me," her voice dropping to a whisper.

"Hmm," Artie sighed, "that's what Jim says to me too. Doesn't seem to help." They both jumped apart as a clatter of pans fell to the floor behind them. "What in heaven's name…" Artie said, moving around the girl, to see Sophie on the counter. The kitten meowed loudly and looked at the doorway into the hall. "Speaking of worrying," Artie laughed, "this little girl worries more than me when Jim isn't on the train." He reached down to scoop up the kitten. "Want to see Jim? Let's go find him, sweetie." He held the tiny animal to his face and kissed her fur as he walked through the train. "She worries until he comes back on board, even when I show her where he is." Christian smiled as she followed him to the formal door at the back of the varnish car.

"Hey, Jim," Artie said, opening the door. He and Christian stepped out onto the rear landing to watch Jim and Lori jog along the tracks. "Someone was missing you." He held Sophie so the kitten could see them. The tiny tail flickered and she yowled even louder. Jim laughed and shook his head, waving at them. "See, Sophie, he's right there. He'll be back on board soon." He patted the kitten's head, and turned to go back inside.

"That's the most spoiled kitten in the history of domestic cats," Christian said, smiling. "Stop fooling around and let's get cooking." She turned and walked back into the train. Artie paused, watching her thin body move across the room ahead of him.

"Sophie," he whispered to the cat as he shut the door behind him, "you need to entertain yourself for a bit and stay out of the kitchen. I have need to heat some things up," he whispered, setting her onto the couch and hurrying to the galley.

Later that morning…..

The train whistle interrupted their conversation with a jolt. Jim's eyes darted to the back of the varnish car as the train accelerated. "Dammit, run!" he yelled, sprinting down the tracks. His legs pumped as his leather shoes pounded the ground. He quickly gained on the train and ran past the side steps. He reached his left hand out toward the brass handle attached to the side of the wooden exterior wall, and with a quick leap, he grabbed the handle and pulled his body up. His feet landed firmly on the lowest most step and he twisted to look behind him. His right hand reached out toward Lori but she wasn't there. He looked down the tracks and saw her running toward him.

"Wait for me," she called out breathlessly, her eyes glued to him.

"Well hurry up," Jim snapped, grinning at her. "You need to move faster." He waved a hand to her but could see she wasn't going to make it. He looked around the front of the train, knowing what was coming soon, and glanced back to her. "Come on, girl, you said you could run as fast as me! Let's see it happen!" He waved again and was relieved to see her face flush with anger as her feet sped up. He leaned out as far as he could, holding his right hand toward her while maintaining his grip with his left.

"Almost," she gasped.

"No talking," he interrupted, yelling now, "this train needs to speed up to make the incline. Move Faster!" He stretched another inch, reaching toward her, feeling the muscles in his shoulders stretching. "Come on! If I have to jump down and walk up this hill with you…!" Lori gave a loud growl and increased her speed. She reached her left hand out and Jim grabbed her forearm, pulling her up off the ground. She grabbed his shoulder with her right hand too as he twisted her toward the steps. He pushed her up to the landing and against the rear wall.

"Oh," she cried out, pulling her arm out of his grip. "Ouch." She leaned back, bracing her back against the wall. Her hands rested on the front of his sweat soaked white shirt.

"Sorry," he whispered, his face inches from her's. He moved his arms to encircle her waist and keep a firm grip on the brass handle at the top of the steps. "I didn't want to pull you apart but you needed to get onto the train." He paused, worried, as she covered her mouth with one hand. "Are you alright?"

"I'm trying not to throw up on you," she gasped between her fingers.

Jim backed up an inch but still surrounded her with his body. "Please don't," he said, grinning at her. Suddenly the door opened next to them and Artie's face appeared.

"You made it," he said, "good. Doing ok?" He leaned out to look at Lori.

"I think she's just a little winded," Jim said, watching the girl. "Maybe some water would help?" Artie nodded and shut the door. "We can move in just a minute, the train is about to go up a steep incline and we should just stay right here." He was relieved when she didn't argue, for once. The train's engine started to chug, making the platform jerk ahead as it titled upwards. Jim braced his feet as Lori fell against his chest. "Hold onto me," he whispered into her ear, as they leaned against each other.

"Shouldn't we be inside the car?" She whispered her hands slipping down his sides to his hips.

"We would be inside if you had moved faster," he whispered. "And there is another surprise for you too," he paused, as they plunged into darkness. "Tunnel."

"Yes, I noticed," Lori said, leaning sideways to look at the receding oval of light. "How far is this tunnel? I've never been outside of a train in a tunnel." She twisted to look at the sides of the carved stone passing on either side. "This is a really long tunnel!"

"Not long enough," Jim whispered, leaning closer to her neck, gently touching his lips to her jawline. He felt her stiffen in his arms and he waited, half expecting to feel her hands striking him. When she didn't move, he slid his lips along her lower jaw to her earlobe. He chanced a kiss behind her ear and moved to her neck, holding her tighter. He paused again as he felt her body shaking. "Are you alright," he said, leaning back again so he could see her face.

"Really?" she laughed, shaking her head at him. Her face was flushed again, "You really think this is a romantic moment? Sticky sweat, in a musty tunnel, on the back of your train?"

Jim let out a long sigh, his voice having an edge to it now, "I admit dinner at a nice restaurant would be more romantic, but this is all I have at the moment." Light blasted them again as the train emerged from the tunnel into the bright western sky. "And we're out," he said, squinting at her.

Just then the door popped open again, "here you are," Artie said, stepping into the doorway with two glasses and a pitcher of water. Lori quickly stepped past Jim as he lowered his arm, grabbing the glasses. She walked to the other side of the platform and sat down, crossed legged. Artie handed the pitcher to Jim, whispering, "drink slow and stay outside for a while." With a wink, he shut the door. Jim shook his head and sat down opposite the girl. She held out the glasses while he poured.

"Beautiful view out here," she said, looking over the wide open land. "Are we in Arizona?"

"Yes," Jim said, watching her. "And I agree the view is very nice." He tipped his glass at her as she glared back at him. "Drink up. You must be parched." He emptied his glass and set it between his feet. He leaned his back against the brass railing and stretched his legs out toward the door.

"Sorry but I am dying of this heat." She pulled the buttoned shirt off, leaving only the tight fitting white undershirt, and began wiping the sweat off her chest and down her arms.

Jim watched, surprised and amused. "You certainly do not act like other women I've met." His eyes slowly moved across her chest and down to her waist before going back to study her hair as it fell around her face.

"But I bet I look like them," Lori said, noticing where his eyes were going, "we are all made the same." She stopped wiping and drank deeply from the glass. When she emptied it, she leaned back, closing her eyes.

"Actually," Jim said, leaning closer, and reaching a hand out to touch her upper arm with a finger, "you are not. You have real muscles. I have never seen a woman with muscular arms." He ran his finger down the length of her arm to rest on the back of her hand. When she didn't move, or even look at him, he sat back, confused but still impressed. "Must be the farm life," he sighed, refilling the glasses. "No, Lori, you will take some studying. You are very different from the women I have met." He noticed a smile at the corners of her mouth and grinned. He leaned back against the rails again and returned to enjoying his view.

tbc


	9. Chapter 9 Surprise Party

Chapter 9 Surprise Party

{

"Just keep stirring," Artie purred in the girl's bare neck. He stood behind Christian as she faced the stove, stirring a large pot of tomato sauce with a long-handled wooden spoon. The girl giggled as he stepped even closer behind her, speaking softly. "Are you sure you don't cook at home," he said, teasing, "it appears as if you know what you're doing." He leaned down, his nose touching the curls of black hair looped on top of her head, smelling a faint mix of fresh soap and last evening's perfume.

"I'm only doing what you tell me," Christian said. She nodded toward the other large pot, "and what is going in there? The water is boiling now. You wanted me to tell you when it boiled," she said, turning to look up at him. Her cobalt blue eyes sparkled in the sunlight as the train moved through the trees. Sunlight and shadows flickered constantly as the varnish car slide along the tracks.

Artie moved to the counter to open a wooden box. "That is for the pasta. I make large batches, cut it, dry it, and then store it until I want to use it." He reached in to pull out long, flat pieces of off-white noodles which were stiff and brittle. He broke one in half and showed her.

"I have never seen one un-cooked," Christian said, taking a small piece. She snapped it into smaller pieces. "This is what I eat in Italian restaurants?"

"Yes, there are names for all the different shapes and sizes." He said, putting a handful of noodles into the boiling water. "This is lasagna, which means wide flat noodles. You have probably eaten linguine, which is the long, thin, strands of noodles. It's all the same ingredients, just cut differently."

"Hmm," she said, watching him closely. "And how did you learn how to cook this?"

Artie winked at her, "I grew up in New York City," he laughed. "There are a lot of Italians there. In fact people from many countries live there, you can learn to cook any food and speak any language." He smiled and spoke in French, making the girl giggle again. "Or I can say the same in Italian or Spanish," he said, switching again to other languages. "It's all the same."

"That is amazing," Christian said, "I don't see how you keep it all straight. Plus Russian and the others that your partner said were useless to your work." She shook her head, causing a few tendrils of black hair to fall down around her neck, accenting her pale skin.

"Ah, Jim," Artie chuckled. "I forgot I was going to stop speaking English to him." He turned to look at a small wall clock, "I wonder how we are doing on time. We will be stopping soon for an hour to refuel and fill the water tank."

"Why so long?" Christian asked, stirring her pot again as she watched Artie lower noodles into the boiling water. "The previous times we refueled, it was done in minutes."

"Oh, I imagine there is another train coming toward us that we need to step aside for," he said. "Only one set of tracks so we have to share. We will put into a siding and wait until our next section of track is cleared. Occasionally we will have priority for a really important trip, especially when the President wants to speak to us in person." He paused, stirring the boiling water. "We try not to ask for that too often and abuse the system." He stepped back to the girl's side, "but enough about train schedules. I was going to tell you about New York."

"I would love to see it," she said, her voice falling to a whisper as she turned to him. "Maybe you could let me come with you someday? If I wouldn't be too much of a bother to you?"

"You? A bother?" Artie said, his voice rising in surprise, "It would be my pleasure to show you the city. You shall take carriage rides through the parks in the day, attend the theater at night," his voice announcing grandly as if on stage, "and spend each spare moment eating at every fine restaurant." He took her hands in his and pulled her closer, looking down at her. "When this crazy trip is over, we will spend a week or two traveling."

"Oh, that would be wonderful," she breathed. "Would James let us use the train without him being on board?"

"Oh, you couldn't pry him off this train. I think he'll be buried in it someday," he laughed, "But we will leave him and his train behind and stay in the grandest hotel." He released her hands to slide his arms around her waist. "But this afternoon, when we stop, you and I need to go on a secret mission in town. There is a big surprise tonight."

"Oh?" Christian's fingers tips touch the front of his vest as she took a step closer to stand against him. "And what surprise is that? Or can't you tell me?" The front door banged shut and other voices were again in the varnish car. She sighed as Artie released her.

"I will tell you when we leave," he said, kissing the top of her head. "Now back to the lasagna." He gently spun her and moved her back to the pot. "Stir, woman," he ordered, as she giggled. He turned to the hallway as Jim appeared, "Did Lori recover?"

"No, she died," Jim said, walking past the doorway, leaving an order of sweat and dirt behind in the hallway. "I pushed her body off the back." He turned into the bathroom and shut the door. Water was heard faintly as Lori appeared, looking equally sweaty and disheveled.

"I'm fine," Lori said, leaning against the doorway. "And I'm starving. That smells amazing!" Her eyes moved from pot to pot on the stove. "Is it ready yet?"

"Ready?" Artie said, staring at her in shock. "To eat? No, not for hours." He paused, letting out a long sigh, realizing she hadn't been joking. He opened the door to the ice box and reached in to pull out a bowl covered with a towel. "Here's a snack for now. Jim's usually starving after running too. Save him some."

Lori took the bowl and lifted the towel to see a pile of meat and vegetables from last night's dinner hidden underneath. "Jim? To heck with him, he thought a shower was more important than food!" She turned to walk up the hallway toward the swinging doors, reaching into the bowl with her fingers.

Artie turned back to Christian, "she must have a hollow leg. And you," he said wrapping an arm around her waist, "need to eat more. My mother would have a fit if she saw how thin you were. Tell me again where you two get food. Do you have an apartment with a kitchen? Like a house?"

"Are you trying to figure out where I live?" Christian said, smiling at him.

"Possibly," Artie said, grinning. "But only to bring you food, I swear. Or take you out to dinner."

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Later that afternoon….

{

"Sophie," Jim said, his voice low and stern, "I just said no. Don't touch that again." He gently pushed the kitten back with his hand, moving her along the top of the table. He pointed his finger at the kitten, which immediately attacked it with tiny sharp teeth. "It won't work; my hide is too thick for you." He managed to remove his finger and return to his work of rubbing empty brass cartridges with an oiled cloth. He squinted into one, tilting it toward the light coming from the small window of the lab where he sat. "I thought you were supposed to be looking for a mouse in the galley. Wasn't that why you were brought here?" The kitten gave him a long meow and sat down on the table. The black tail curled around the tiny body and the dark eyes watched him intently. "Too bad you can't help me with this," Jim said, talking more to himself now. "Everyone loves to shoot bullets but no one likes to refill the brass after." He put the cloth down and picked up a tool. With a quick snap of the wrist, he began knocking the spent primers out of the cartridges. He piled the tiny bits of metal on the table in front of him and lined the empty brass up in neat rows.

"Hey, Jim," Lori said, entering the narrow lab room. "What are you doing in here?" The blond dropped into the other low chair opposite the small table. "With your little helper," she said, reaching forward to pat the kitten's back. The kitten stood and walked closer to her, arching its spine.

"Making cartridges," Jim sighed. "I thought you were cooking in the galley. Learning how to cook lasagna seems to be an important task today." He continued to remove the primers, looking up from his hands now, to watch the girl.

Lori leaned closer to watch what he was doing. "The galley cooking class seems to be a private event and mostly spoken in other languages besides English. I think it was mostly in Italian but I'm not sure."

Jim paused to look at her more closely, "so you were feeling like the third wheel? I didn't realize the class was so exclusive." He shook his head, wondering if his partner was having better luck at questioning Christian than he had been lately with Lori.

"I'm sure your partner didn't mean to exclude me," she sighed dramatically, "but my partner gave me the 'go away' look." Jim raised an eyebrow but didn't say anything. "Besides, when someone is speaking another language near me, I always feel like they are talking about me. I'm probably just being suspicious but did you ever feel like that?" Her smile made her question sound more light-hearted than her words.

"Oh, ya," Jim said, snorting, "Especially when Artie says something he knows I won't understand, and then laughs." He smiled, "but he knows I will get him back."

"Like with the betting today?" Lori laughed, "You didn't do very well with that bet. And that galley is full of large, dirty pots." Jim grumbled under his breath. "Are you supposed to be washing dishes now? They just went into the town to run errands so the room is empty."

"Oh, I would," Jim said, in mock seriousness, "But I am so busy with all this." He spread his hands to indicate the rows of brass cartridges. He scooped up the primers and stood to throw them in a nearby wastebasket. Sophie took advantage of his eyes being turned away and reached out a tiny paw to a cartridge. She poked it and the brass tipped over, knocking into the next one, sending the row over like a row of dominos. The kitten quickly pounced on the spinning bits of metal, knocking some off the table. Jim turned back at the sound of metal clacking onto the floor, "hey, you little devil," he said, gently pushing her back again. "Stop touching things." He picked her up and held her against his face. "Repeat after me, 'I promise to stop touching things that don't belong to me'," he growled. The kitten meowed and licked his nose.

"Oh, Sophie," Lori said, standing, "you just need a box…" her eyes darted around the room on neatly stacked, and full, boxes. "Well, this will do," she said, sliding past Jim in the narrow space to the back wall. She took down a top hat and placed it upside down on the table. "Now tell her to keep out of it and she'll be in there for hours."

"Really?" Jim said, laughing, "Reverse psychology on a cat?" He put Sophie on the table near the hat but again pushed her gently sideways, repeating, "no, don't touch that hat." The kitten immediately jumped into the hat, almost tipping it over. Her little face peeked out at him, the dark eyes watching. "Women," Jim said, tossing a clean handkerchief on top of the kitten's head. "Can't fight 'em," he sighed, picking up the tool again. "Here, you can do this part while I clean."

Lori took the tool and grabbed a handful of empty brass. "Do you make all your own bullets? I just buy them."

"Yes," Jim said, "my rifle is finicky about the shape of the lead; the cartridge has to be a certain size and shape to allow the action to work quickly without hanging up. And I adjust the amount of powder in the cartridge." He looked at her again over the oil cloth. "You can shoot firearms, right? We really haven't talked about that. You carry that scatter gun but I haven't seen you with a handgun."

"I can shoot," she said, watching her hands as she worked. "The shotgun makes people pay attention to me, stop running, start talking. Works like a charm." The pile of spent primers was building as was her line of empty brass casings. Sophie reached a paw out at the cartridges but Lori tilted the hat, jiggling it, and the kitten disappeared inside, underneath the handkerchief.

"So do we have any other details to review for tomorrow night's excitement?" Jim's eyes lifted to look into Lori's, her grey eyes instantly turning from relaxed to suspicious.

"The only details I will review tonight," she said, a slow smile coming back to her face, "is what's in lasagna." The pale grey eyes held his stare as the kitten peeked back out from inside the hat.

That evening…..

[

"Artemus," Jim said, putting his fork down and sitting back from the table. "That was an excellent meal. I don't think I will need to eat again for a day or two." He rubbed his stomach, sighing contentedly as his partner waved a wine glass at him.

"So glad you enjoyed it, James," Artie said, "I had a lot of help making it this time." He turned to wink at Christian. "Someone will be a good cook by the end of this trip."

"It wasn't as difficult as I imagined, especially with it written in the cook book," the dark hair girl said, blushing at Artemus. "But we did dirty every pot in the galley. I think we should all help clean up…"

"Oh, no," Artie said, sitting back to look across the table at his partner, "James would feel terrible if he didn't fulfill his part of the bet he lost so disastrously this morning." Jim burst out laughing and shaking his head, "besides we still have dessert."

"You aren't serious," Jim said, "I don't think I can eat another bite. And you are supposed to be making dessert." Christian and Lori both got up and moved through the swinging doors toward the galley. "I will need to run another five miles tomorrow at this rate." He paused as the girls immediately returned, each carrying a small box. "What are those," Jim said suspiciously as the boxes were placed on the table in front of him.

"Happy Birthday," the two girls said in unison as the regained their seats.

Jim glared over the boxes at his partner, "Really? I was hoping you had forgotten this year. You hadn't said anything all day and you tricked me into losing a bet."

"Tricked you? Now that's a new one," Artie snorted. "Happy Birthday, James, my boy," He said, reaching over to refill his friend's glass. He rolled his eyes as his partner paused to stare at the boxes, "Just open them, they are completely safe. I watched both boxes being filled and have kept my eye on them ever since. Guaranteed not to explode."

"Wow," Lori laughed, "Christmas must be terrifying for you two."

Jim grimaced, "we only accept letters now. No boxes, no matter how small." He looked onto the floor at Sophie who was eating cold leftover chicken. "And last time I opened a box, I got a kitten." The cat, at noticing his attention, stood on her back legs and stretched her front paws out to him. "oh, fine," he said, leaning over to pick her up. "You can help me. Which one should I open first?"

"This one," Christian said, pointing to the box that was slightly smaller.

Jim fixed her with another suspicious look but picked up the box and shook it slowly. A loud clunking sound was heard from inside. Putting the kitten in his lap, he opened the top flap and removed a large, dark blue ceramic mug.

"A shaving mug?" Jim asked, looking at her. "I have a shaving mug but thanks for the new one."

"Well, you used to have a shaving mug," Christian said slowly, "something terrible happened to it, accidentally, this morning and coincidentally it was your birthday so…"

"You broke my old shaving mug and bought me a new one?" Jim said slowly, waving the new mug toward the girl, "that old mug was a family heirloom. What will I tell me mother?"

"What?" The girl's face reddened as Artie choked on wine. "I'm so sorry. I knocked it onto the floor and …"

"It was not," Artie managed to blurt out, still coughing, "You are the worst liar." Christian immediacy stopped talking to glare at Jim as the others roared in laughter. "Open the other gift but don't pick it up and shake it. Just lift the cover," he added, pointing at the larger box.

"Why?" Jim leaned forward, muttering, "You're making me worried again." He put the mug down onto the table and placed his hands gingerly on either side of the large box, noticing the cover would need to lift straight up. Moving slowly, he removed the cover and peered into the box. His blue eyes looked up at Artie, "really, a cake?"

"It was her idea," Artie said, grinning, pointing at Lori. "She said you had to have a birthday cake." Lori grinned as Jim's glare turned to her.

"Or course you have to have a birthday cake," Lori said, "You're lucky we aren't singing happy birthday to you." Jim shook his head and looked back at the cake. "It's a cheese cake so it's made of healthy dairy ingredients. And chocolate." She smiled at Artemus, "good choice, by the way." Artie waved his wine glass at her, nodding.

"Fine," Jim said, putting the cover back on. "But it's mine and I don't have to share it."

"What?" Lori said, sitting bolt upright, "are you going to eat it all yourself?"

"Maybe, it is my birthday gift. But if you want cake," Jim said, "you can help wash dishes first. Besides I couldn't eat another bite right now." He stood and held Sophie against his chest. "Into the kitchen, you and this lazy cat." He started to walk away but paused to look down at Christian, "and thank you for the new mug." He winked at her and flashed his dimples as the girl blushed. He stood and walked into the kitchen as Lori followed.

"Ok, free loader, onto the floor and find a mouse," he sat, squatting to the floor onto one knee to put the kitten down. "You remember what a mouse looks like?" The kitten meowed loudly and began to look around the floor, nervously backing up to hide behind his knee. The tiny tail wrapped around her body and she yowled again, looking up at him. Jim sighed and patted the soft fur, "you need to earn your keep. I will be right here with you." He stood up and stepped carefully to the sink, keeping one eye on the kitten.

"Do you really wash dishes? I guess I figured you guys would have a maid to do everything for you." Lori stepped next to him, her eyes moving from pot to pot, piled onto each other on the stove top and counters.

Jim sighed, facing the mound of pots. "We need to take all this shit out of the sink to fill it with water. Watch out for knives though." He leaned over, squinting between the pots. "We try not to put anything sharp in the water." He started moving pots to the counters, talking as he worked. "We used to have a fellow that cooked and cleaned and ran errands, took care of our clothes," he sighed, "he was great. Tennyson was his name. He eventually started helping us with casework. He found he enjoyed it so much that he moved to London to join Scotland Yard." He chuckled, thinking back, "and then we had a maid for a few months but she suddenly came into money and quit." He reached in to plug the sink and began running water in the deep basin as Lori sprinkled in a powdered soap from a box. "So we decided that we could do everything ourselves. It's too crowded with a third person living here anyway, like Tennyson did. So we split the cleaning jobs, while Artie cooks most of the time and I take care of the horses. Obviously we can switch out if we need to, but it's easier this way. He hates my cooking and my horse keeps biting him."

"What?" Lori said, "I haven't had your cooking but why does your horse bite Artie? Maybe he tastes good." She picked up a large pot and put it into the water, washing it with a soft cloth. "This is a mess, and I know Christian washed some earlier today."

"Did she?" Jim said, surprised. He opened a drawer and pulled out a clean towel. "That was nice of her. Must be her guilty conscious for breaking my nice shaving mug." He looked at Lori, seeing her annoyed look, "so how did she break it?"

"She was moving things around in a cupboard, looking for a comb, and it fell out, bounced off the sink and hit the floor." She giggled, "Broke right in half. She was really upset though." She moved a pot and spoons, piled inside, clattered to the floor. "Dammit," she growled, leaning over to pick them up. Sophie peeked out from behind the leg of a lower cupboard, her tail nervously flickering. "Sorry, Sophie," Lori said as she stood and threw them into the water with a splash. "I'll wash, you put them away. Artie will have a fit if a spoon is in the wrong drawer."

Jim snorted, "you don't know how right you are." He opened a drawer to remove a towel. "And Christian was also using my comb? Didn't you two bring anything of your own?"

"Colonel Richmond told us to pack light," Lori said, "and that the train was well stocked with anything we might need. And he said how you two were so polite at sharing." She grinned at him as he laughed, "and I think he mentioned the train is Federal property, including most everything on it."

"It really is," Jim said, "except for our personal things like my comb and shaving mug," he growled. "So be careful with the fancy plates and glasses. I don't want to have to send a bill to Richmond for items you've broken," he added as she handed him a dripping plate. "So are you enjoying your train ride? It does get boring and long but still better than a public train."

"I'm spoiled for life," the girl said, handing him a handful of clean silverware, "but I think I am getting anxious for arriving in San Francisco. It is still taking days to get there."

"Anxious?" Jim said softly, "nervous? We still haven't discussed details of what you want to do. Wandering around the city in the dark trying to spot someone in particular may take days or weeks. This guy may not even be there."

"We'll just take it slow," Lori said, not meeting his eyes, "and stay flexible. You just never know what might happen." Jim stared at her but she handed him clean plates in silence as the usual chill descended between them.

Midnight...

[

"The most beautiful woman I have ever met?" Jim grinned, as he sat on the couch in the varnish car. Lori sat next to him, waiting for her question to be answered. The evening's game was quickly becoming more personal than the group's first night together days earlier. "That's easy. Jennifer Wingate," he said, sighing, his dimples deepening as he paused in conversation. "Ya, Jennifer…"

"Amazing how she slipped out of those handcuffs that night," Artie grinned, thinking back, "but they aren't really made for a woman's slender wrists and hands. I wonder where she is now." Artie sighed, sipping a glass of champagne.

"You two actually have a dreamy look," Lori laughed, "this is serious." Christian leaned closer, curious. "So do tell, who is Jennifer Wingate?"

"Oh, no," Jim said, shaking his head, as if to clear away the memories. "No, way, not telling that story," he said, waving a finger at his partner, "and neither are you! I can have some secrets around here. People using my comb and breaking my shaving mug," he teased, winking at Christian. "Were you using my toothbrush too?"

"Oh, I did," Christian said, leaning back in her arm chair, clearly annoyed, "just this morning I was cleaning my toe nails." She smiled sweetly at Jim's suspicious look. "Since that was your question, it's my turn," she said, looking across the coffee table to Artemus. "Can you show me how to make that cheese cake? That was marvelous!"

Artie thought for a minute, "I have never made one but I am sure there must be a recipe in one of those books." He nodded toward Jim, "someone keeps telling me I can't make desserts or I have to run for miles behind the train to work it off." He grinned as Jim nodded at him.

Lori looked at Jim, "how fast can this train travel? Flat versus downhill or uphill?"

Jim groaned, "another train question? I thought we were talking about more interesting topics tonight, like pretty girls I've met?"

"We were but you wouldn't tell us any interesting details," Lori said, "so it's back to the train questions. But maybe you don't know. I can ask Cobb. He has been full of information."

"Leave the engineer alone," Jim growled, "you keep pestering him with questions when he's working. What we need to discuss is what the plan is tomorrow night; in detail. You two have had the map of the city in my room all week studying the street layout. So I am not telling you what to do," he said, looking at both of them, "I just need to know what you're planning." Conversation stopped as the two women exchanged a look.

Lori finally looked from Jim to Artie, "As I have been saying, let's just keep it flexible."

Artie cleared his voice and said softly, "It's good to have at least a basis of a plan such as what area do you want to look at first, should we split up or stay together as a group? Also what does this fellow look like? I could draw his features out if you could describe him. It would be less dangerous for all of us if Jim and I knew a little more about this guy."

"And, since it's my birthday, you have to cooperate with me," Jim grinned, "you'd feel bad if I was killed on my birthday."

"Oh, nice," Artie snapped, glaring at Jim as the two girls gasped.

"Don't say that," Christian added, "that's bad luck."

Lori leaned forward to rap her knuckles on the coffee table, "quick knock on wood with me for luck and stop saying terrible things on your birthday."

Jim stared at the blond, "what the hell are you doing? Is that some good luck, farm people, folk lore?" He laughed, looking at the girls. "Since you are both so concerned for my health, let's start with Artie's suggestion of drawing this person that we need to find. He is pretty good with a pencil." Artie stood quietly and moved to the desk, opened a drawer, and returned with his large sketch book. The girls exchanged a look but then nodded and moved to either side of Artie. Lori leaned closer from the couch as Christian picked up a dining room chair and sat down next to his armchair. Satisfied that cooperation was finally beginning, though the usual chill had settled again over the group, Jim leaned over to pick Sophie off from the side of the couch. The tiny claws were sunk deep into the golden cloth where the kitten had been climbing. "I just had that re-covered," he sighed, as the kitten twisted in his hands. "You girls are too much trouble," he said to the kitten while stealing a glance at Lori next to him. He was rewarded with a glare from the pale eyes but she turned back to Artie and began suggesting facial descriptions. Artie's hand moved quickly as the two girls described the man they were looking for.

tbc...


	10. Chapter 10 Arrival in the Darkness

Chapter 10 – Arrival in the Darkness

[

]

Jim stood in the doorway of his partner's small, jumbled bedroom. He wore dark blue pants with his usual black boots but a dark blue shirt was slung over his bare shoulder. "I don't think you were asking the right questions, partner. You were supposed to be asking questions about San Francisco," Jim growled under his breath, as he yanked the leather straps of his sleeve gun onto his right arm. The small Derringer was tucked into the waistband of his pants, the grip pressing against his stomach. "You can make dates for New York City after this party is over."

"I thought my questions about becoming better acquainted in New York were completely appropriate to this situation. I think Christian is beginning to trust me. I hope to get further details as we move out tonight, either in a group of four or two groups of two." Artie paused from his work of applying grease to his dark locks in front of a mirror to look at Jim, "Of course the two groups of two could still be you and me following them," he said, his eyes worried. He also wore a pair of dark pants, the waistband covered with a wide black leather belt. His shirt however was a tight fitting pullover, with black and white horizontal strips. A black handkerchief was loosely tied around his neck.

Jim snapped the Derringer in place and raised his arm, testing the mechanism. Satisfied, he turned back to Artie, "Plan A is still all four of us traveling together; plan B is I follow Lori and you follow Christian." He pulled the shirt on and began fixing the buttons, "what is that outfit anyway? Will I be able to recognize you if we get separated and I happen to see you in the street? And is there another outfit underneath that one?"

Artie grinned, his white teeth flashing a golden tooth in the front. "I am just a poor young sailor, down on his luck, wandering the docks," he said, "Possibly looking for a pretty, dark-haired girl to spend the evening with." He picked up a thin, black mustache and applied it to his upper lip, leaning close to the mirror again.

"No white haired old man tonight?" Jim laughed, knowing Artie was more likely to dress as a young man when pretty girls were involved.

Artie winked at him while holding the mustache on. Speaking slowly, as to not dislodge the fake hair on his lip, "and how is it going with Lori? You seem a bit slower than usual at attracting the fairer sex this week. The usual tricks not working with this one?"

"I think she sees me as one of her brothers," Jim said with a long sigh. "Not really the attitude I was hoping to develop." He paused, shaking his head, "though I am a little reluctant at pushing her boundaries. I think she would push back, if you know what I mean."

"Good to take it slow," Artie said, standing and lowering his hands. He turned his head sideways, looking at the mustache in the mirror. "At least she stopped hitting you. That's an improvement." Jim nodded, as he tucked his shirt tail into his waistband. "So when should we be stopping at the siding? I am about finished here. I've been so busy with this outfit that I haven't noticed where the girls are tonight."

Jim pulled out his pocket watch, "another twenty minutes. We need to gather them up. Lori is in my room but I'm not sure where Christian is. I hope she hasn't disappeared on us. She could be here but we can't see her because she's invisible," he said, grinning at Artie. Then he turned to look behind him as the knob to his door turned. "Speak of the Devil," he said, stepping back as Lori emerged from the bedroom and moved down the hall toward the swinging doors. "We should be stopping in about twenty minutes and then…" he paused as she turned to look at him, not breaking her stride.

"I am getting off now," Lori said, "you do what you want." She turned again to walk toward the doorway. She also wore dark clothing, with a wide brimmed hat pulled low over her eyes. Her double barreled shotgun was in her hand while the leather sleeve was slung over her shoulder.

"What?" Jim snapped, "wait a minute." He hurried to her and was reaching out to grab her arm when the girl reached up to the emergency wire, giving the train whistle two quick pulls. The train whistle hooted twice, the signal for the train to slow. Immediately, the brakes came on and the train almost stopped, "What the hell are you doing?"

"Signaling Cobb to slow the train so I can jump off," Lori said, pointing out the hall window, "I am getting off just past this narrow area."

Jim's teeth started to grind as he growled out, "you obviously have learned the train signals but I don't think you two should be jumping off here. This is miles from town…"

"It may be miles from town," Lori said, pausing at the swinging doors, her pale eyes glaring back at him, "but it's in the backyard of the house I am walking to." She stepped through the doors into the living room area, with Jim close on her heels.

"Who's house?" Jim demanded, as Artie followed. He stole a look back at his partner as they all entered the living room. Again, Jim reached out toward an elbow but the girl moved quicker.

"The guy I'm after," Lori said. She turned to face both agents. "This guy's house is on the edge of the city, we found the street name on the city street map. I am checking to see if he is there. If he isn't, then we can wander around town looking for him."

Artie stepped closer, looking nervously around the room, "and is Christian going with you?"

Lori dropped the shotgun into its leather boot, "she left half an hour ago, jumped off when we slowed for that last hill."

"WHAT?" Artie roared, "by herself?" He took a step closer to the girl, his hands waving in the air at her. "Alone? In the pitch dark? She just jumped off the back of the train?"

"There was a place where the road curved closer to the tracks," Lori smiled sweetly at them, "handy place to jump off, be right on the road to the house. She needed to get there first, have a chance to look around, before I arrived so…"

"So she went alone," Jim said, his fists were balled onto his hips. Artie turned away, his voice chocking, and wiped a shaking hand over his face. Jim watched his partner for a heart-beat, knowing Artie's silence was worse than his yelling. He turned back to the girl, speaking in a low whisper, "Are you two crazy? And all those train questions of yours were just so you could plan this out; how slow the train goes, how to signal the engineer? All week we have discussed what we were going to do and now you two are just jumping off the train into the darkness…"

"Oh, for the love of God," Lori burst out, "we are not children. We can walk down a street in the dark without getting eaten by cougars or hit by a meteor!" She turned away and Jim jumped around her, blocking the door.

"If you get off this train, I'm going with you," Jim growled. He reached to the desk and grabbed his jacket. Pulling it on, he looked at his partner. "Finish up your outfit and go find her. We'll meet back here eventually." But Artie was already moving through the swinging doors toward his room. He looked back at Lori, who stood, arms crossed across her chest, angrily waiting. Jim stepped back and opened the door, waving a hand toward the opening. "After you," he said, as she strode past, silently. He let out a long sigh and followed her into the darkness.

[

]

Moments later, on a back street…

]

Artemus stopped walking, mid-step, listening to voices. His heart pounded so hard it seemed to interfere with his hearing. He tilted his head toward the sound and squinted into the darkness. Misty tendrils of fog swirled around him, obscuring his vision further than the next few steps. He looked up at the dark street lantern overhead and then to the deserted businesses on either side of the narrow street. Many street lights in the area were unused and broken, causing long stretches of gloomy, fog-filled spaces. Most storefronts were closed at night unless it was a brothel or saloon. The voices drifted again, closer this time, making Artemus flatten himself against a brick wall. He looked down at his dark clothes and reassured himself that he was invisible against the old bricks.

"Invisible," Artie muttered, looking around him. "This is what you meant after all. You wear dark clothes and are small, quiet as a mouse, and no one sees you. How will I find you?" He thought of the dark house at the address Lori had given him. No one had appeared home and he hadn't entered, knowing Jim would be inside searching the rooms. He had moved up and down various streets in the area without seeing Christian. "Maybe I am doing this wrong," he chuckled, "if I can't find her, she could find me."

Artemus stepped away from the safety of the wall, hunched his shoulders, and tilted his long, knitted cap at a jaunty angle. Moving forward with a stagger of a drunken man, he began to sing, loudly and off-key. "What do you do with a drunken sailor?! What do you do …"

]

[

At the house….

]

"How do you want to go inside," Jim whispered to the blond. They stood close, behind a clump of trees, staring at the house. It was a tall, square shaped, wooden home with the usual symmetry of windows. A variety of out buildings surrounded a small carriage barn further back form the street. "We could go around the back and see if there is an open window. Or I could pick a door lock in the back if…"

"I'm a front door girl," Lori said, stepping away from him. She pulled the shotgun out of the sheath and moved to the front steps.

"Of course you are," Jim muttered, watching her walk toward the front porch, amused and worried at the same time. He twisted his right wrist and the Derringer slid into his palm. He waited in the shadows for Lori to reach the door and watched for guards to appear along the walls of the house. When no one showed, he quickly stepped behind her. "Locked?"

Lori whispered over her shoulder, "No. Just listening," she said, turning the doorknob. She opened the door and quickly walked into the house. Jim kept to her heels and shut the door silently behind them. They waited for their eyes to adjust to the reduced light.

"Coming?" Lori said, hefting the gun in both hands. "Or staying here?"

"I'm with you, sweetheart," Jim said, "if we get separated, we may shoot each other by accident. Richmond would be very upset with me." Lori hmphed and stepped across the room.

]

in the alley...

]

Artie stumbled against the rough brick wall, sliding his shoulder along the filth, and raised his silver flask toward the approaching men. The taller brute, obviously the leader, stepped closer as the other three spread out in a line behind him.

"What are you doing here," the man growled, leaning over the cowering agent. "Lost in the fog? The ships are a mile away from here."

Artie held his hands out in front of his face, dirty fingertips poking out of fingerless gloves, "please, sir," he said, slurring his words, "I was just looking for a watering hole that would serve an ole salt like me." He laughed, his voice creaking and hissed whisky breath toward the man. The brute stepped back with his nose wrinkling. "Maybe one with a pretty girl to serve me whiskey."

"Well," the man said, coughing at the smell, "we are looking for a woman too." Artie tried not to react as his heart jumped in his throat. "A woman and a small child. A little girl." The man held his hand out to his side, indicating a shorter person. "Both dressed in black. They may be hiding in a house or tavern." The man shook his head irritated, "filthy drunk. Why am I wasting time asking you?" He shoved Artie with both hands, slamming him back into the wall. "Get out of my way," he growled as he pushed past the agent in the narrow street. The gang of lackeys followed, each one slamming a hand or fist into Artie's chest as they moved past.

Artemus turned toward the wall slightly, attempting to shield himself from the onslaught. The last one only managed to punch his shoulder as he hurried past. Artie's teeth ground in frustration, hating not being able to fight back. Pretending to be helpless was often a dangerous balance of staying in character and staying alive. He turned back to face the street and continued to lean against the wall, wondering where to go to next. Just as he stepped away, he heard his name whispered behind him.

"What?" He turned in the darkness, squinting into the fog.

"Artemus," the voice whispered again, almost as if the name floated on the fog.

Artie turned to face the wall again, stepping closer. He walked along, running his left hand along the rough bricks. The hair on the back of his neck stood up as a chill went down his spine. Was that a woman's voice? His right hand went into the coat's deep pocket to grasp the revolver's cold grip.

"Artemus," the voice repeated, now seemingly next to his ear.

He jumped, and stepped back. Christian's pale features appeared to him from the darkness. She stepped closer, showing her black clothing, as she stood in a recessed doorway. "Thank God," he breathed, stepping to her. His hands instinctively went to her waist as she stood above him on the threshold. "Thank God you're safe but I have to tell you, woman," he growled, "that I hate your disappearing act."

She giggled, touching a fingertip to his mustache. "I love your mustache," she breathed, leaning closer to him. Her hands moved to rest on his chest and then slid up to his shoulders, her fingertips moving over his muscles underneath the tight fitting shirt. "And this outfit is very nice too."

"Speaking of this outfit," Artie said, relaxing now. "How did you know it was me, just for my own education and occupational improvement?"

Christian's brilliant smile flashed in the darkness, "oh, I knew you would do something like this so," she paused, wrapping her arms around his neck, pulling him closer, "I snuck into your room the other day and went through your wardrobe and trunks. I remember seeing these items."

Artie chuckled under his breath, "Now, sugar," he whispered, moving a boot onto the threshold, "that's cheating." He boosted himself up and planted his other boot opposite hers. He leaned over and kissed her, holding her against him. He was relieved to feel her arms move around his shoulders to embrace him with no stabbing pains from the knives in her belt. He felt her move back and released her.

"Would you like to know why I had to leave the train first," she whispered, her lips on his ear.

"Yes," he growled again, "I would like to know why you ran off like that. Was this the famous invisibility trick? Jumping off the train into the dark?"

She kissed him again, lightly this time, whispering, "I can disappear in the daylight too. No one notices me, if I don't want them too." Her face moved back, to look into his eyes, "no one ever sees me."

Artie stared at her, taking in her blue eyes as he held her. "Well I see you and I'm not letting you out of my sight again," he said. "Now tell me what's this all about."

Christian stepped back, breaking the embrace but keeping one hand in his. "This is why," she said, stepping sideways to reveal a bundle of black cloak on the ground, tucked into a corner of the building. She squatted down and moved a corner of the cloth to reveal the pale face of a child. The eyes were closed and the child breathed regularly; sound asleep. She covered the face again and stood. "We need to get the child to the train before those men find me." As if on cue, the deeper voices of the searchers came to them in the night air. The girl instinctively stepped back into the darkness again.

Artie leaned over to give her a quick kiss, "give me five minutes to get rid of these idiots and then bring her out. We'll get back without anyone else seeing us. I can hide in the dark pretty well myself." He turned and stepped off the threshold into the street, immediately changing into the drunken man again.

"Ahoy, mates," he called out, waving his arms, "let us drink together!" The group of men paused, all turning angry faces back toward him. One waved an angry fist but Artie pretended not to notice. He pulled out a flask and staggered to the group. There were only three this time and the tallest leader wasn't among them. He leaned over, whispering, "I see ya'll are without your bossman now," he said, conspiratorially, "I wouldn't want to get you in trouble by offering you a bit of me whiskey." He watched the two younger men look to the third, slightly older one. Artie held a flask out to him, "we'll take a nip and then go on to the nearest establishment for refills," he laughed, coughing slightly, his other hand covering his face with a handkerchief.

The man reached out for the flask, "and why not? Haven't we searched for an hour or more? We can go in and get warmed up, maybe take a rest for a while," he laughed, pulling the cork from the flask's neck. A white gas burst out, quickly spreading into the faces of the three brutes. Their eyes immediately dimmed and rolled back into their heads. The three collapsed against each other in a heap on the cobblestones.

Artie leaned over them, muttering, "and have a nice, long nap. You deserve the headache when you awaken too." He turned and waved a hand toward the darkened doorway. Christian stepped down into the street carrying the child. She had pulled a hood over her head and was completely covered in the black cloth. "I had better hold onto those folds as we walk or I will lose you in the darkness," he whispered as she stopped at his side to look down at the sleeping men. He took her elbow with his left hand as his right quietly pulled the pistol from his coat pocket. They hurried toward the train through the deepening fog.

]

[

back at the house...

]

Jim stood behind Lori as they faced yet another closed door. The girl's slender hands gripped the shotgun, held across her chest. Her hat blocked her face but Jim could tell by her shoulder's that she was tense. Voices had been muttering in the next room, too softly to discern the words, suddenly began to increase in volume. Men were shouting now, arguing, as furniture scuffed on a floor.

"We have to find her immediately," one deep voice said.

"She's gone and someone took her," another voice said, slightly higher pitched. "You can't hide behind a child anyway. It ain't right."

"She just wandered off," the deep voice argued again. "I have to get her back. She's my only leverage. I will look around the house. You go into town and look. Maybe someone did take her."

Jim stared at the door, wondering what the men were talking about, as Lori turned to peek at him from under the hat's brim. Her pale eyes were colorless in the dim light of the hall but her amusement was obvious. She winked at him and turned back to the door. One hand grasped the knob but Jim reached around her to grab her wrist. When she looked at him, he silently worded "wait".

Voices stopped as more furniture scrapped. A door farther away creaked open and suddenly voices were heard coming from outside. A bright light flickered crazily though a hall window. Jim crossed quickly to the glass to watch a group of men walk outside to horses. They seemed to look back into the house as they mounted, then suddenly turned and rode away down the road, the man in front holding a lantern to his side. Jim looked back at Lori and nodded.

Lori turned the knob and walked through the doorway, with Jim on her heels again. A lone man spun to face her as she tipped her hat back to reveal her face.

"You," the man choked out, shock clear on his long face. He reached for his pistol hung low on his hip but the shotgun rose toward his face. He stepped back, holding his arms out to his sides. "No, don't shoot me!"

"John," Lori said quietly. "You know the child is gone and you know who took her." The girl smiled, enjoying the game. "And you know your men won't find her either because she is invisible tonight."

"That's horseshit!" The man stepped forward and then backwards again, obviously confused at what he should do. "No one can be…it ain't right. She just does some trick like a magic trick."

"Oh, no," Lori laughed, "and now you are coming with me. We are going all the way back to Washington. Your friends miss you and want you to return."

"No," the man said, becoming more upset, "you can't make me ride train and it's too far for a horse. I won't go with you…" he dropped his hand to his side, starting to reach for the gun belt. Jim stepped to one side of Lori, showing himself. The man froze again, seeing the new adversary, "who are you?"

"This is my friend Jim," Lori said, "he has a train. He would also like you to come with us." Jim slowly raised his right hand, holding his arm across his chest, showing the derringer. The man's face paled even further. "Jim, this is John Harrigan. His father owns that house in Washington that you were watching last week. John took something and brought it to California. I was in that house looking for what he took but I didn't find it because he had already left town. And now both need to go back."

Jim looked more closely at the man, noting the long face, the squarish head, and dark hair. "I have met his father, Ronald Harrigan. He has contacts in California. Men who use shipping containers marked with words like cotton, wheat, and barely but actually hold a variety of other things of much higher value. I am sure John would be an interesting travel companion on the way back. We could talk about all sorts of things." Jim grinned at the man, "of course you will be riding in the stable car with the horses."

"I'm not going," John repeated, stepping back.

Jim spoke to Lori without looking at her. "You want to tie him up or should I?" The girl nodded to him and Jim grabbed a piece of rope from a nearby bench and advanced on the man.

tbc


	11. Chapter 11 Truth is Stranger then Fictio

Chapter 11 – Truth is Stranger than fiction

[

]

"Comfy there, Johnny?" Lori patted the top of the man's head as she knelt next to him.

"To Hell with you," the man yelled, tugging at his wrists. The clank of metal sounded and he twisted, trying to see behind him. "I'll get away, you just watch me!"

"Well then I guess we will watch you, Johnny," Jim said. He walked in front of the man, whom he had chained to a post in the center of the stable car, and looked down at him, his hands relaxing on his hips. Artie stood nearby, in the side doorway, watching. "You are under arrest by the Secret Service for assault and kidnapping. You will ride in this spot all the way back to Washington. We can all take turns spending time with you so you don't get lonely. It's going to be a long ride back but it will be even longer if you cause us trouble." He knelt in front of the bound man as John glared sullenly at the floor. "So, tell me the story John. Lori told me her side of it but she's a crazy female," he paused to wink at the blond as she grinned back at him, "So why don't you tell me what really happened? Or should I add other charges such as not cooperating?"

"Well, see," John said, trying to think as he talked, "my father was being harassed by the police in Washington. Uniformed men were watching him, following him, watching his house." He twisted around to glare at Lori, "and he said he didn't know why and he hadn't done anything wrong. But then Lizzy's father said he was having him investigated for stealing and was going to have him arrested. And then he said he would have me arrested too." He paused, glaring at Jim now, "so I took Mary with me back here, just to make him calm down and think before he did anything. Make him realize I wasn't a bad person and he should leave me and my father alone."

Artie's eyebrows twisted together as he exchanged a glance with his partner. "What twisted logic is this all about?" He took a few steps closer so he could see John's face as he spoke.

Jim stood, exhaling slowly, "It's simple, Artemus," he said, a smile tugging at his face, "he wanted to show Senator Morrill that he wasn't a bad guy by kidnapping the man's granddaughter."

"Of course," Artie said in mock seriousness, "that part is obvious."

"And what better place to hide than at your own home," Jim said, shaking his head and tisking at the man. "Some days I think you and I can only catch the stupid ones." Artie let out a snort and nodded.

Lori leaned over to glare at John, "And what about what you did to Lizzy the night you grabbed Mary? And that poor little girl will have nightmares for life about being dragged from her bed in the darkness!"

"Lizzy had it coming," John snapped, spitting in anger now as his face flushed, "she wouldn't stop yelling at me. She thought I was a fine man until her father started digging up dirt about me and my family just to break us up. And Mary was never scared. I took good care of her. We only got here yesterday. I was going to bring her to a nice place to live with some nuns on the waterfront so she could…"

"So you could hide her better," Lori snapped back, standing now. She moved to stand between the agents. "Elizabeth is Senator's Morrill's daughter and little Mary is her only child, his granddaughter. Her husband died almost two years ago in an accident and recently she met this guy. At first he was great and seemed to treat them well. He was in the elite circle of Washington parties, lots of fun on the surface but behind the scenes he was abusing Lizzy. Christian and I were trying to get her to break it off with him and her father became suspicious. He investigated where John's money was coming from and apparently discovered this smuggling operation".

"So materials come in and out of San Francisco bay, shipping in opium for one thing," Jim said, explaining to Artie, "the money and other goods were being sent overland to Washington. That end is still being looked into, but where did the money go? John couldn't have spent all of it."

"What gets moved out in trade?" Artie asked. "Those ships don't sale empty."

Jim pulled his watch from a pocket and looked at Lori, "can you handle him? I want to look around inside that house tonight. This train can't move until 6 am so that gives me a good four hours." Jim looked over the girl's head, "Christian is with the child?" He moved to open the ramp behind him and then to his horse and began getting the animal ready to ride.

Artie nodded, "She is still asleep. We put her in your bed. We'll have to child proof this train again before she moves around very much." He looked at Lori, "and you two could have told us a little more about this situation on the way out here. Jim and I are here to help."

Lori turned to look at him over her shoulder as she still faced the prisoner, "I told you when I first came, you two have a high death rate. I didn't want you two charging into that house and shoot Johnny here," she paused to kick the man's boot, "If he was dead and we couldn't find the child, Christian and I would have been very upset."

"So you just went along with our plans and just kept asking train questions," Artie sighed, knowing he and his partner had been tricked by professionals.

"It seemed to keep you both entertained," the blond smiled, "and I do find trains interesting." She turned back to John, "besides, if we didn't find him and little Mary in the house, we would have been searching the city. That's why we were in such a hurry. We had to catch up to him before he hid her or something worse."

"I'll do as much searching as I have time for tonight," Jim said, pulling his horse to the open ramp. His eyes were worried. "Hold down the fort, I'll be back."

Artie nodded, knowing Jim would move faster alone. "If you aren't back by six am, I will come looking for you," he paused as Jim's mouth opened in protest, "so just get back here on time."

Jim snorted and nodded. "Sure, partner, sure. Just make sure this train leaves with them for Washington at 6 am whether I'm back or not." He rode down the ramp and disappeared in the darkness.

[

]

back at the house...

Jim stood underneath the wide branches of a mesquite, hidden in the shadows. He held Blackjack by the bridle, holding the horse's large head down next to his face. He whispered to the horse to quiet it. "Let's just wait a minute," he said. The horse snickered and he placed his hand on the animal's soft nose. "sssh," he said. He watched the three men approach a taller man who was standing in the doorway of the house where he had so recently helped Lori remove her quarry.

The taller man shoved the man in the middle, backing him up a step, "where the hell have you idiots been?"

The man caught himself and staggered forward, "I don't rightly know what happened. We saw that sailor man again and he offered us a pull off his whiskey bottle." He rubbed his face, "but I don't remember drinking from it. I remember a white cloud, like it had exploded at me. And a funny smell," he continued.

"You passed out from drinking," the taller man said, apparently the leader. He glared at the other three men. "You're a useless bunch of liars!"

"No, it's that sailor," the man protested again, "I tell ya he had an exploding whiskey flask." The leader cuffed him in the face, knocking his hat off. The man staggered back again, "I'm going to find him and bring him back here to you!" He spun, grabbing his hat off the ground, and stormed off, the other two quickly following him. They disappeared into the darkness, down the dark road.

Jim grinned, as he rubbed Blackjack's nose, knowing all about the sailor and his exploding whiskey flask. He turned to the horse, "you know he got me with that flask the first time he perfected that trick. You watch out he doesn't experiment on you too." The horse shook its head and bit a green leaf off the tree. "Ya, you don't care anymore than he did. He thought it was funny, was still laughing when I woke up." Jim wrapped the reins around the saddle horn. "You stay here until I whistle, ok?" He patted the animal's neck and walked past the tree to approach the house.

Stepping to the porch, Jim opened the door and walked in. The tall man was still in the front room and turned as he entered. "Who the hell are you?" Without giving Jim a chance to answer, he leaped forward and swung his right fist in a wide sweeping shot. Jim easily ducked the slow punch and stepped in close, hitting his right under the man's chin. His opponent's eyes glazed over and he started to crumple. Jim's left was already connecting to the man's temple, driving him to the floor. The body lay in a twisted heap.

"Why ask me who I am if you don't want the answer?" Jim chuckled as he grabbed the man's boots. He dragged the body into the nearby closet and shut the door, suspecting the man would not awaken before he was done his search.

Jim stood in the lobby of the big house, looking at the many doorways and the staircase in the middle of the house. He moved toward a first floor door that seemed to lead to a room in the back of the house. Hoping for an office, he moved through the doorway, and shut the door behind him. He stood in the dim light of the weak moon and waited for his eyes to adjust. He stepped forward and bumped his knee into a low table. With a growl, he slid his boots slowly across the carpet until he reached a large desk. He moved around to the back side of it and sat down in the wooden chair. "Ok, Johnny," he muttered, "I know what you're doing so let's find have some evidence." He opened the top drawer and squinted inside but only found ink wells, pens, and pencils. He shut it and tried the top drawer on the left hand side. The drawer wouldn't budge.

"Locked?" Jim snickered as he pulled out the lock pick from behind his lapel. He put the pick in the lock and twisted, then slowly slide the drawer open, "and not booby trapped; such an amateur." He picked up a leather bound book and opened it on the desk. Slowly turning pages, he could see columns of words and numbers. He tilted the book toward the window but the moonlight was too weak. He set it down and tried the other drawers. Each opened easily and contained blank papers and another unused ledger. He sat back in the chair and looked around the room.

"So, Johnny," he whispered, "you do your work here but can't store all the traded goods at the house. You are too far from the bay where the ships are unloaded but you could have barns to hide small wagon loads. And you probably have a lot of cash on hand which means a safe…" his eyes searched the walls and finally came to rest on a large painting on a back wall across from the desk. The scene was of a sailing ship crossing the ocean with large waves crashing over the ship's point. "Really? Is it that easy?" He stood and walked to the wall, brushing his right hand on his jacket to clean his fingertips. He reached up to look behind the painting and then moved the frame aside on a hinge revealing the front of a safe.

"As usual, behind the painting. Doesn't anyone have a painting for the love of art anymore," he sighed, turning the knob. The door opened and he reached slowly into the dark space. He pulled out an envelope stuffed with papers. He glanced at it briefly and quickly tucked it into an inner jacket. He reached inside again and felt around but nothing else was present. "Hmm, no money? Maybe Johnny has a spending problem." He was shutting the safe door when he heard the door creak next to him. He turned to face the room, pressing his back against the wall, hoping he was hidden in the shadows.

"Mr. Harrigan?" A woman's quiet voice drifted in from the doorway. "Are you here? I thought I heard…" the floor creaked as the woman moved into the room. She carried a candle in a small, old-style holder. The weak light cast shifting shadows in the room. The woman was short and wide, slightly stooped over. Her feet scuffed over the carpet as she moved toward the desk. "Mr. Harrigan? " She walked around the desk and pushed the chair in, as if to neaten the space. She leaned over the desk and reach for the ledger but suddenly her face turned up to look straight into Jim's eyes. "Oh!" She gasped and dropped the burning candle onto the book, stepping backwards in surprise.

"No," Jim hissed, jumping forward. He grabbed the book and gingerly turned the candle holder upright. He stepped back to brush candle wax off the leather and inspect the damage. "Just the outside is singed," he said with relief. He looked up to see the woman staring at him silently, her hands to her face. Realizing she was frightened, he smiled his most convincing smile. "I apologize for upsetting you like this," he said, nodding to her. "My name is James West. I am here on official business…"

"I don't know anything about Mr. Harrigan's business friends," the woman whispered, still scared stiff.

"No, you don't understand," Jim started to reply, then he removed his badge from an inner coat pocket. He watched the woman's eyes leave his face and move to the badge. "I am a Federal officer investigating Mr. Harrigan's business dealings…"

"He isn't here," the woman said, interrupting again.

Jim put the badge back into his pocket, "yes, I know that. I arrested him earlier and …"

"Arrested?" The woman started to swoon, tilting sideways. Jim quickly stepped around the desk to grab her elbow. He tossed the book back onto the desk and pulled out the chair, guiding her to sit.

"I know this is a shock to you and I apologize," he said, speaking slowly and softly. He sat back on the corner of the desk and smiled at her again. "I am here to look around for any papers or other books like this one," turning to tap a finger on the ledge. "Have you seen anything in the house? I have looked this room over and checked the safe," again, pausing to nod toward the safe door still visible in the wall. "I am wondering if you could show me around the house, maybe to his bedroom?"

"Of course," the woman said, still wary of him. "I need to check on the child too. There is a little girl here now and…"

Jim smiled again, shaking his head, "I have her also. She is returning to Washington D.C. to be with her mother. She wasn't really supposed to be with Mr. Harrigan."

"Oh, dear," the woman said, holding her hands to her face. "I was so surprised when he came here with her. He said the child's mother was going to join them and live here in this house."

"Did he appear to treat the girl well?" Jim's eyes narrowed at the woman, watching her closely. "Should I have a doctor look at her?"

"No," the woman said, "the child was happy and cheerful. He seemed friendly with her but I wouldn't say inappropriate. And he had lots of new clothes for her and books and toys." The woman paused, obviously thinking, "If you are traveling with her, would you be needing her spare clothes and toiletries?"

Jim stood, picking up the book, "yes, of course. I should have thought of that myself." The woman rose and moved toward the door, with Jim following. They made their way upstairs to a hallway of doors.

"This is his room here," the woman said, pointing to the first door at the head of the stairs. "The child's is further down and mine is at the end." She sighed, looking at the doors, "it was so enjoyable to have a child in the house. It's so quiet here normally. Mary is a very sweet girl and very smart. She loves reading books."

"I'm sure she does," Jim said, stepping forward to open the first door. "It you could gather her things together, I will check this room out." He watched as the woman moved down the hall to the second doorway and then stepped into the bedroom. He paused to light a gas fixture on the wall, and then quickly looked into bureau drawers. A table by the bed had pencils, pens, and a note pad but the paper was blank. He quickly brushed a pencil sideways on the paper, looking for the indents of letters from a previous note, but nothing decipherable showed. He stepped to a closet and pushed clothes aside, tapping inside on the wooden walls for hollow sounds. As he looked back into the room, he noticed the woman watching him, a puzzled look on her face. "I am looking for hidden rooms and hallways behind the walls." She continued to stare, "many old homes have hidden spaces."

"If you say so, sir," the woman muttered, handing him the bag. "Are you going to the warehouse next?"

Jim took the bag, "thank you for this. What warehouse? Where is it?"

"Mr. Harrigan was always running for here to there and back again. I just thought you would be wanting to tap on walls there too." She chuckled at her own joke, "Front street, just off Pier st, which is off Main," she said, "do you know the city? I could draw a simple street map."

Jim smiled, nodding to her. "I know the way. Thank you for your help. I doubt you will be seeing John Harrigan for a few years. The house may be seized by the government so, for now, please stay here and keep track of everything. Someone will be in touch with you soon." He turned and walked quickly down the stairs and outside. He whistled to his horse and waited for the black to emerge from the shadows of the mesquite and trot to him. He hooked the bag onto the saddlehorn and patted the horse's side. He pulled out his watch and tilted toward the weak moonlight, just making out the time. "Let's go for a fast ride to the ocean," he whispered. The horse whinnied and nodded its head as he leaped into the saddle. He kicked the animal lightly and moved quickly down the road.

[

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Artemus shut the front door of the varnish car, silently, behind him and turned to walk down the narrow hallway. He stopped, a foot still in mid-air, as he stared down at the small child who had stepped out of Jim's bedroom. The child wore one of Jim's white undershirts, which hung almost to the floor. Sophie was in her arms.

"Well, hello," Artemus said, slowly lowering to one knee. "You must be Mary."

"I am," the girl said. She held the kitten out in her hands, "what is her name?" She quickly pulled the kitten back to her chest, stroking its fur. The kitten twisted and meowed but didn't attempt to get away.

"Oh, that's Sophie," Artie said, smiling.

"Does she live here?" Mary took a few steps closer. "I was on another train but it wasn't like this and it didn't have a kitten. And there were a lot of other people there too and they were all very loud. And I didn't see any beds like this one has."

Artie smiled, nodding to the girl, "yes, Sophie lives on the train. And this train is more like a house on wheels. Do you like it?"

"I do like it," Mary said. She hugged the kitten against her face. "But why aren't we moving? Don't trains usually move?"

"This train will move at six o'clock," Artie sighed, "we are waiting for another person to arrive." He winked at the girl, "a very important person. His name is Jim and he lives here too with me and Sophie. My name is Artemus." He paused as the girl attempted to say his name. Laughing quietly, he whispered, "I bet Sophie would like some breakfast. How about you?"

The girl nodded, "yes, I think Sophie is hungry. Are you the cook?"

Artie stood slowly and patted her head, stepping past her. "I suppose I am," he chuckled. The girl followed him into the galley and waited in the doorway. Artie put a bowl on the floor, just underneath the edge of a table, and removed a glass bottle of milk from the ice box. "This is for Sophie," he said, pouring some milk into the bowl. The kitten wiggled frantically at the sight of her bowl and the girl quickly put her down. Sophie hopped sideways in excitement as she approached the bowl and began to drink, her whiskers dripping with white droplets. "And this is for you," Artie said, handing the girl a cup of milk. The child took it and began sipping as she watched him move around the room.

"When is the train going to move?" She asked again.

Artie looked down at her and winked, "I will show you," he said, picking up a large watch from the counter. "I use this watch to help me cook because sometimes I need to time my food. See the fastest hand moving?" The girl leaned over to look at the watch face. "That's the second hand. It moves really fast. And see the longest hand?" He pointed at the glass, "when that hand moves straight down at the 6, we will leave." He handed her the watch and stood to fill the stove with small pieces of wood. Then he moved a large coffee pot to a back burner on the stove top and moved the large frying pan to the front burner.

A man suddenly appeared in the hallway, clearing his throat. Artie stared at the stove top, not looking at him, as he rubbed lard in the hot pan.

"Artemus," the man said quietly. "Jim said we was to leave promptly at six."

"I know what he said, Cobb," Artie whispered. He let out a long sigh, "maybe we could get moving slowly this morning. Take your time getting ready…"

Cobb rubbed his face, "already got a full head of steam but I could check those break lines once more, just for safety." He winked at the child, "But when you give the word, we'll move off."

Artie sighed again, nodding, staring at the stove, "yes, go." Cobb turned and walked back down the hall. The door shut behind him.

The little girl held the watch up, "but it isn't at the 6 yet."

Artemus looked down at her, "it will be when we leave. He needs to get the train ready to move. I just wish my friend Jim would show up." He tried to smile but his eyebrows twisted with worry.

"Oh, I thought that was your friend," the girl said, sipping at her cup.

"That is my friend but his name is Mr. Cobb. He is the engineer that drives the train," Artie said, as he moved to the ice box again. He removed a bowl of sausages and moved them to the pan. "No, my friend is going to come riding up on a big, black horse," Artie said, kneeling down once more in front of the child, "the horse is so black it shines in the sunlight. And the saddle is covered with fancy silver conchos." He smiled to her, his voice a whisper, "he'll be here." As if on cue, men's voices were heard shouting outside. Artie stood quickly and moved to a hallway window, visibly relaxing. "Well, speak of the Devil."

The child put the empty cup on the floor and pushed in front of his knees, standing on her tiptoes, trying to peek out the glass. "I can't see, pick me up," she demanded, holding her arms up to Artie.

He leaned over and scooped her up, holding her on his hip. "Let's go outside and say good morning," he said, hugging her. He carried her down the hall and out the front door to the deck between the cars. He squinted into the early morning sun to see Jim, on his horse, talking with Cobb. "You're late, partner," he called out.

Jim turned and grinned, moving the horse closer. "I can't be late, partner," Jim said, trying to look stern but the dimples showed he was smiling, "If it was past six, you would have left already."

"Oh, right," Artie laughed, "then you are just in time." The little girl started to hold out the watch, showing the big hand now past the number 6, but Artie put his hand around it. "Oh, that watch runs fast anyway."

Jim snorted and dismounted as Cobb lowered the ramp. Jim pulled his horse up as Artie walked back inside with Mary. Jim walked past the prisoner, still secured to the post, with Lori sitting on the floor behind him. "Any problems?"

"No," Lori said, glaring into the back of John's head. "He hasn't moved." She stretched her long legs out in front of her, keeping the shotgun across her lap. "He even stopped talking, hoping I would fall asleep." John sat rigid and silent. Lori stretched her arms and shoulders and then climbed to her feet. "Did you find anything?"

Jim handed her the ledger book and the carpet bag, nodding toward their prisoner. "I'll explain these to you later." He turned to the horse, removing the saddle and blanket, and then the bridle.

"I'll brush him," Lori said, "you go get some coffee. Artie just brought me a glass of water and said he would make breakfast soon. I'm not sure who is more nervous about you getting back here, him or Sophie." she grinned, handing the bag back to him. She opened the book and flipped through a couple pages, "interesting. Code?"

"Possibly,"Jim took the book, tucking it under his arms, and stooped to check the handcuffs. "John, don't worry about a thing. Just relax and enjoy the ride." He lowered his voice, "and don't bother this crazy lady. She needs a new punching bag to practice on and you might be it." He looked back to see Lori brushing the side of Blackjack, noticing the shotgun standing in a corner near her legs. Satisfied, he moved toward the varnish car, tired and hungry.

tbc


	12. Chapter 12 Hell Breaks Loose

Chapter 12. Hell Breaks Loose

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Jim yawned as he walked into the varnish car. Artie was sitting at the table just finishing a cup of coffee. The tall, silver carafe was next to him on the table. Little Mary was sitting on his lap making funny faces in her reflection.

"You more hungry or tired?" Artie asked, grinning up at his bleary-eyed partner.

"Both", Jim said, dropping the envelope on the table. "I found these in a safe in an office in the house John lived in. I haven't looked at them yet." He held out the ledge, "and this was locked in a desk drawer. Lots of columns of numbers and letters but I need to look at it more closely to connect the dots." He sat heavily in a chair, placing the book on the table. He reached over to grasp the carafe, picking it up and pouring coffee.

"Hey," Mary said, smiling at him. "You took my mirror. I was looking at me."

"What?" Jim said, laughing at her, "but I don't see you. I see me," he said, holding the silver vessel in front of his face as she giggled. He put the pot back on the table, picking up his cup. The girl leaned over again, lying partially on the table, looking at herself again. "Nope, you again," Jim said, picking up the ledge again and moving to the couch.

"Hey," Mary said again, dropping onto the floor to follow him. "I like that book, it has fun words." She climbed onto the couch as Jim sat down. "It has words like gold and silver."

Jim sipped from the cup and set it quickly down on the side table as the little girl grabbed at the ledger, "hold on," he said. He opened the book as Mary settled next to him. The columns of numbers and letters blurred before his tired eyes. He yawned again, rubbing a hand over his face. "I might have to do this later." He leaned his head back on the couch and closed his eyes.

"I will read to you," Mary said, leaning over to point a finger onto a page. "G is for gold. S is for silver." Jim opened one eye to watch her read. "W is for wheat."

"Are you making that up?" Jim picked his head up to look at the page. He noticed that the numbers next to the letter G were much higher than the other numbers.

"No, this is the book John read to me when we were riding on the train. He told me what all the letters meant," Mary announced importantly, "and he said I had to keep learning my letters. This was the only book we had. He bought me books yesterday and I had them at the house. There was an old lady there, she was nice, and we read together."

Jim stole a glance at his partner. Artie was watching from the table. He had spread the papers from the envelope over the table cloth. He picked up one sheet, waving it, "G seems to stand for gold, James, my boy." He winked, "Seems John is trading all sorts of materials."

Jim looked at the book again, "what about these other letters?"

Mary pointed, "C is for coal. R is for rice."

The list continued as Jim looked from Mary to Artie. "This is crazy. Who trades everything? People usually trade one thing for another, keep a pattern."

"That may be why this ring was so difficult to pin down. Too many variations, too big, no patterns." Artie gathered the sheets up and folded them. "This can all go to Colonel Richmond as soon as we get back. You know how secretive he is, keeps his cards close to his chest."

"He probably suspects a lot of this or knows more than he has told us," Jim agreed. "The master who holds all the strings. But maybe it will be the proof he needs to start collecting people."

Christian walked quietly into the room, paused to smile at Artie and then moved to Mary. "Good morning, Sweetie," she said, leaning over to hug the girl. Mary pointed to the ledger and then looked at Jim, giggling behind her hands. "What are you doing with Jim?" Christian sat on the couch, leaning over to look at the book.

"She's reading to me," Jim said, rubbing a hand on the girl's back, "and doing a fine job." He turned to look at Artie, "you mind if I sleep for a while in your room?"

"No, go ahead," Artie said, standing, "but I was just going to put breakfast on the table."

Jim let out a long sigh, "all right, food then sleep." He looked at Christian. "Everyone taking turns in the back room?"

She nodded, "I'm next, then Artemus. Assuming we can get Lori to leave the car." She shook her head, "she is very angry."

Jim watched her for a minute, noticing her usual relaxed features were tense, her jaw clenched. "You will have to tell me the rest of the story later," he said quietly, as Mary leaned against him to turn a page. Christian nodded, reaching out to run a gentle hand over Mary's hair.

[

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Later that day….

Artie leaned against the doorjamb of the passageway into the stable car where John was still handcuffed to the post. Lori stormed past him, off toward the varnish car, clutching her shotgun, as Christian approached. Artie handed her his own shotgun, letting out a long sigh, "it's loaded. Stay away from him. I will be out soon to stay with you."

"I can sit behind him where he won't even see me," she said quietly. "Please try to make sure Lori eats something. It will make her feel better." She looked back toward the varnish car, "this has been very upsetting to everyone but hits her especially hard."

"Why?" Artie said, curious, "what did happen, anyway? There wasn't any talk in Washington but Colonel Richmond said the Senator reported his daughter had been injured and the granddaughter kidnapped. He seemed to have a dozen agents working the case."

Christian stepped closer, whispering, "I told you earlier that Lori and I had gone to check on Lizzy at her house. When we arrived, the front door was wide open, which is not like her. It's usually locked, even during the day, but we have a key. So we went in and found her in the front parlor." She paused, shaking her head slightly, "she was on the floor, had been beaten, her face was all blood, and she was knocked out." Artie's eyes narrowed in anger as he listened, "we wrapped her in blankets and brought her to the women's clinic. You probably never heard of it, its run by a woman doctor," she paused, as Artie nodded, "well anyway, when she finally woke up she was able to tell us what happened. She said John had attacked her when she told him she wanted to stop seeing him. She said he threatened to take Mary where she would never find her."

They paused to look toward the captured man, "he almost made it," Artie whispered. "That's why you were in such a hurry and needed a fast train ride out here."

"Yes, we went from the clinic to see Colonel Richmond at his house," she continued. "We knew by that time of day that he would be home. We hoped to find Mary at John's father's house and wanted to search it." She smiled, "Colonel said he had agents watching the outside of the house for any suspicious men connected with this smuggling ring, but the agents wouldn't leave their posts to bother us."

Artie chuckled, "Jim saw you two and it immediately made him suspicious. He couldn't figure out if you were men or women. But he decided on women in men's clothing which made him even more suspicious so we had to catch up to you."

"Colonel Richmond also said," she smiled, stepping closer, "that if we had serious trouble, we were to shout out to the building you were in and you men would come save us." Artie laughed, shaking his head. "Colonel Richmond always has all his points covered, doesn't he?"

"Always," Artie said, wrapping an arm around her waist.

"So when we went inside the house, all we found was a cook." She paused, thinking back. "The poor woman was crying and then we scared her, appearing out of the darkness. We had to calm her down to get her to talk but she finally said John had appeared with a small child wrapped in a quilt. John's father had been there and was angry and told John to return the child and kidnapping her would only make matters worse. They spoke about the police following them everywhere. She said John finally stormed off, yelling about going to San Francisco. And then the father had left too. She told us that was where John had a home and business. She wrote the address down for us and we encouraged her to leave, said it was dangerous to work there. I hope she did."

"You two could have told us the address," Artie said softly, trying to keep the anger and frustration out of his of his voice.

Christian just smiled. "When you two stopped us on the street and flashed your badges, we realized who you were, but didn't want to say anything without Richmond's approval. After breakfast at the Italian place, we met Richmond at his home again. He said he would arrange for fast transport to west coast."

"And the rest, as they say, is history," Artie sighed. "You two have been a couple of steps ahead of Jim and I this entire trip. I hope we all know everything now?"

"Well," Christian smiled, her dark blue eyes twinkling, "a girl can have a few secrets, can't she?" She stood on tip toes and kissed his lips lightly, whispering, "I need to go watch him. Please try to feed Lori. She can live on anger for days but needs to keep her strength up."

"She does seem more angry than usual," Artie said, looking toward the varnish car. "Why? Wishing she could shoot John and be done with him?"

"It's just how she covers her feelings of worry and frustration," she said, "we all handle stress differently. I just stay out of the way."

"Lori reminds me of Jim," Artie said, "they are very similar." He leaned down to kiss her again, "be very careful with this guy. He isn't happy about being with us." He watched her walk into the stable car and sit silently in a dark corner, almost disappearing before his eyes.

[

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Later that evening….

Jim woke to the sharp pain of being struck in the right temple. He lurched up, one fist instinctively blocking to protect his face and another punching outward into the air. His eyes focused on a black coat to one side of him and he turned toward it, noticing the figure had no head. Gasping in shock, he leaned back, bringing his feet upward toward the ghostly figure. Just before he kicked out, his eyes noticed the shelves of books just beyond the mattress. He paused, as his eyesight cleared, to see a wooden trunk piled high with hats of various shapes. He looked back at the headless figure, which now was only a black coat hanging on a hook. He let out a long breath and lowered his feet the floor. The object that had struck him was now in his lap; a book, open to the chapter title, printed on the page, "Falling Objects".

"What hit me?" Jim muttered, one hand rubbing his sore temple. He closed the book and looked at the title on the cover, "Really? A Study of Gravity?" He snorted, looking behind him and up. A shelf over his head had an assortment of books half on, half off, sliding closer to the edge. "Crazy pile of…" he stood and reached out to drop the book on a table or trunk but couldn't see any available space. He shook his head and tossed the book onto the bed as the blast of a shot gun shook the air. "No!" Jim screamed as he exploded from his partner's bedroom. He ran down the hall toward the stable car.

Another shot blast exploded as Jim entered the box car. Horses were whinnying in fear and a loud crash was heard, the sound of wood and metal falling. He paused as his eyes adjusted to the darkness of the room except that the outer wall was blinding with daylight. He blinked, trying to determine what he was looking at.

"What the hell?" He ran forward, seeing the ramp bouncing, crooked, halfway open as the train powered down the tracks. The wooden tackle box was dangling loose off its bracket, crashing against the inner wall, in a tangle of heavy ropes. Jim grabbed at the ropes but then heard a loud click behind him. He spun, his eyes searching the car. Light and darkness flashed as the sunlight tried to enter the darkened car.

"West," a man's voice yelled, stepping out of the shadows to stand between horse stalls.

Jim stepped back, holding his arms out to his sides. John approached, holding Artie's shotgun, both barrels pointing toward the agent's midsection. Jim's eyes scanned the room, finally seeing his partner's boots on the floor. He hoped Artie was only unconscious, lying on the floor behind Blackjack's horse stall. He swallowed his panic, tearing his eyes back to John. "That gun's empty," he growled, "you shot both barrels. And you better not have shot my partner or I'll drag you behind this train all the way to Washington."

John glared back, "you think I would sit there chained to a post without fighting back?" He stepped closer, nodding toward the ramp, "get out of my way. I'm jumping off."

Jim noticed both of the man's wrists were bleeding. He must have pulled the handcuffs off, he thought, taking some skin with it. "Over my dead body," Jim growled again. He suddenly leaned forward and jumped at the man's legs, throwing his body underneath the gun barrel, one shoulder first.

John fell over as the shotgun blasted again, into the ceiling. The tackle broke free of the rafter and the ropes went slack. The ramp crashed to the ground, the outer edge ripping over the stones along the train tracks.

Jim turned to grab at his quarry but the frenzied man kicked out, his feet catching Jim in the gut. The agent fell back, stunned, holding his stomach. By the time Jim caught his breath and regained his feet, John had jumped out of the open train car. Enraged at letting the prisoner escape, he leaped out of the train car too, his right arm grasping the doorway, to push himself clear of the train's wheels. But instead of jumping clear, his body slammed back against the outer wooden wall. His right arm wrenched over his head as his feet dangled near the lower edge of the car. Jim twisted, looking up at his hand, seeing the cuff of his coat snared on a metal hook attached to the doorway. He grabbed out with left arm, reaching up to free his right, but he couldn't reach. He looked up toward the back of the varnish car, trying to calm his nerves, and saw the last glimpse of the John running down the tracks and the train rounded a curve. He looked forward toward the engine to yell out to Cobb, but the train's noise would drown out any calls for help.

As if reading his thoughts, Cobb's head appeared out the side window. The engineer's face went to the downed ramp, still crunching along the ground. His eyes widened in alarm, then raised to see Jim, dangling from the side of the stable car. The man's mouth dropped open in shock and the head quickly disappeared back into the engine room. The brakes screamed, locking the wheels to a stop, and sending the train engine, stable car, and varnish car sliding down the rails.

Jim sighed with relief, as he twisted on his ripped coat, feeling the train slowly decrease in speed. He tried to see into the stable car, worried about his partner, but the back wall was in dark shadows. He looked forward again and noticed Cobb was watching him with a look of panic on his normally calm face. The engineer disappeared back into his window and Jim saw an outcropping of hill with steep ledge in the distance, hanging close to the rail bed. He watched the rocks approach and felt a tingling sensation climb up his spine. The train was still moving quickly, even as it slowed, and was rapidly approaching the cliff. Jim squinted into the sun, trying to gauge how much space he would have between the rocky outcrop and the side of the train car. He twisted again, turning his back to the view, and scrabbled his boots against the car's outer wooden wall, trying to find any purchase to hold his body still. He managed to get one boot braced against a knot in a plank. He pressed his body against the car, praying the rocks would pass by his shoulders. Then he remembered the ramp was down.

Tbc….


	13. Chapter 13 Pursuit

Chapter 13. Pursuit

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Jim felt a chill run down his spine as he lost his footing against the wall. His body swung out again, away from the side of the train, hung from his ensnared sleeve cuff. He clawed at the wall with his left hand but his fingers found nothing to grasp. His body slammed back as the train car swayed. He managed to get his boot toe back on the plank's knot and braced again against the side of the car. He knew the rocks must be passing the engine by now. He heard the whistle blow, a long, slow blast and prayed he would fit in the space between the cliff and the car. If only the ramp hadn't fallen down. His hair blew in the wind and he watched the ground pass under his feet, almost in slow motion now. The whistle sounded again and he felt his body being wrenched backwards. Something was pulling on the waistband of his pants.

"JIM!"

He heard Artie's voice shriek behind him over the sound of the train. His body was yanked again, this time making it through the doorway. His sleeve tore away as he was pulled inside the car to safety. He fell to the wooden floor, face down in the dirt and hay.

"Stay down!"

He felt Artie collapse onto his back, shielding his body, as the stone cliff suddenly contacted the foreword edge of the downed ramp. An explosion of wood turned into a hail of wooden splinters raining down onto the men. In an instant, there was silence as the train finally ground to a halt. The car stopped its forward movement and then did its usual jolt backwards as the brakes held the wheels still.

"Artie?" Jim whispered, trying to pick his head up. His body was pinned to the floor, his head and shoulders covered by the dead weight of his partner. "I thought you were dead!" He pushed a hand up, shoving his friend off and rolling him to his side.

"Ow," Artie moaned, his face covered with blood. "I thought you were dead too," he whispered. His voice was weak as he rolled onto his back.

"What the hell happened?" Jim said, quickly climbing to his knees and bending over his friend. He ran fingers through the dark curls, feeling the blood. "Are you shot?"

"No," Artie winced, pulling away from Jim's prying. "Ow," he groaned again, a hand going to this face. "Just bruised, as usual." He shifted his feet and gasped in pain again. "Is there something in my leg?" he asked, trying to see behind his knees.

Jim was searching his partner's bloody clothes for bullet holes. He quickly moved to Artie's legs, "oh, hold on," his whispered, reaching behind a knee to grasp a large splinter of wood that had impaled the back of a thigh. He yanked the bloody shard out and tossed it out of the open doorway as Cobb approached. The engineer stood, opened mouthed, staring at them. "Hey, Cobb. Glad we finally stopped. Ten feet earlier would have been better but I'm sure you did your best."

"I don't know how you did it," Cobb said, staring at Jim. "When I saw you hanging from the doorway back here, I thought you was a gonner for sure this time. And why was the ramp down?" His eyes moved to the remains of the wooden ramp. Only about a foot of ragged wood was still hanging from the large hinges attached to the floor. The ground around the tracks was covered with more splinters. "I have seen everything now, I swear."

"I think you need a doctor," Jim said, helping his partner sit up. "I don't suppose we stopped near a town?" Before Cobb could answer Lori burst into the room at full speed. She paused, as she stepped around the two agents, glaring down at them.

"What the hell happened?" Lori snarled. She snapped open her shotgun, pulled two smoking empty brass shells out and stuffed them in her pocket. She rammed two full shells in and snapped the gun shut as more smoke billowed from the twin barrels. "Why did I just see John running down the tracks?" The two agents exchanged a dark look but stayed silent. She moved to her horse and noticed the ramp was gone. "What happened to the ramp?" She stepped forward and looked down at the ground, pointing, "Could you move those larger pieces? I need to jump my horse down!" Cobb motioned to the fireman, who was standing nearby, and they both began clearing the ground of the larger pieces of destroyed ramp.

Artie looked at Jim, "you better go with her, partner," he sighed. "I'm fine, I just need a few bandages. Christian can do it." He pushed himself into a sitting position as Jim stood up, swaying. "Unless you're injured. How long were you hanging out there? And what were you hanging from, anyway?"

Jim held his right arm up, the cuff was completely gone. "I jumped out, after John, the escape artist, and I guess I snagged my coat." He lowered his arm and rubbed his shoulder with his left hand. "I may have pulled a few muscles but my hand seems to be working." He stood back as Lori turned her white horse, saddled and eager to run, to face the opening of the car. "Wait and I'll come with you."

"Bite me!" Lori jumped into the saddle and kicked the horse's side. The animal leaped clear of the jagged wood, landing on the gravel, and quickly running down the tracks behind the stopped train.

"She seems upset," Artie said, shaking his head as Jim stood, fists on hips watching her disappear. "And well she should. That bastard somehow got out of those handcuffs," he said, staring at the metal cuffs on the floor nearby. The cuffs were clearly still locked shut and attached to the post. "And he jumped me when I had my back turned." He paused as Jim grabbed his saddle and began securing it to the black stallion. His horse stomped its feet and blew, eager to follow the other horse outside.

"I heard the gun go off twice," Jim said, pulling at the leather straps. "I thought it was empty but then he shot at me," he said, shaking his head. "He must have grabbed some shells." He stole a quick glance at a shelf nearby where an open box of shells were. The neat stack was a cluster of brass now, with a few fallen to the floor. "The shots must have kept hitting the ramp latch and block and tackle, releasing the mechanism." He paused to grab the bridle, "at least the shot didn't hit one of the horses."

"Thanks a lot," Artie snapped, as he sat on the floor wiping blood from the end of his nose. Red lines were drizzling from his hair down his face now.

"And luckily not you either," Jim added, looking back at his partner. Christian suddenly burst into the room, her face in a panic. "Get the bandages from the bathroom," Jim said, before she could speak. "Lori and I are going after John. You need to patch Artie back together." The dark haired girl turned and hurried back toward the varnish car without a word. Jim pulled his horse from its stall and moved to the door. Cobb stood nearby, waiting for him. "Cobb, get this train moving before another train comes along and hits it in the ass end. I will meet you at the next town, whatever it is. We can get the ramp fixed and get moving again."

Jim climbed into the saddle as Artie struggled to his feet, swaying on unsteady legs. He staggered a few steps to a wall covered with saddlebags and canteens hanging from hooks. He grabbed a saddlebag and two canteens and stepped to the black horse. "Here, Jim," he said, "This may take longer than you think." He leaned a bloody hand onto Jim's thigh as he raised a shaking handful of equipment to his partner.

Jim grinned, reaching down to grab the supplies. "Always thinking about food," he joked but his worried eyes watched his friend. "Now go get patched up and stay out of trouble while I'm gone." He wrapped the straps around the saddle horn and kicked his horse. The animal leaped out of the doorway and landed on the ground. Jim kicked it again and the horse shot forward, down the tracks, in the direction Lori had taken.

Artie stood by the opening, watching Jim disappear into the scrubby woods to the side of the tracks. He turned to Cobb, "I guess we might as well go now. Stop in a siding where you can and we will let the station know we are behind schedule." Cobb nodded and moved toward the engine.

"Artemus?" Christian stepped to his side, holding a large cloth bag. "Are they gone?" She whispered, "What happened?" Her eyes moved slowly from his face, streaked with blood, down his ragged clothes to the floor covered with wooden splinters. She turned to look at the horses; her palomino and his brown horse were both quietly chewing hay, oblivious of the destruction around them.

Artie let out a long sigh, "I let him get away," he whispered. "He got lose, somehow, and jumped me from behind. My fault," he said, his voice taking a sharp edge. "And now Lori and Jim have to track him through the desert and drag him back."

"Well let's get you fixed up before something else happens," she said, wrapping an arm around his waist. "Lori was so angry. She was running back and forth with her shotgun smoking. I was reading with Mary in Jim's bedroom so there wasn't more hysteria."

Artie snorted, "I guess I'm lucky Lori didn't shoot me. She was pretty mad." They walked slowly back to the varnish car.

[

]

"Look," Mary said, holding up Sophie. Artie opened one eye and squinted at the child sitting in his lap. Sophie was on the dining room table, very patiently pretending to be a patient. "I am putting a bandage on her. She has a bump." Mary slowly wrapped a strip of white cloth around one of the kitten's paws. The kitten tilted her head and meowed, curious about why her foot was disappearing into a white wrapping.

"Poor Sophie," Artie said, patting the girl's head.

"Hold still," Christian said, dabbing a piece of cloth into a bottle of dark liquid and then to cuts on her patient's face, "both of you. This isn't easy patching you up."

"It wasn't easy ending up like this either," Artie said, "it took a few minutes and lots of arguing. He insisted on a shooting wound and I said a bump on the ole noggin was plenty."

"Well luckily," Christian said, leaning over to kiss his cheek, "you won that argument. I wouldn't want to be repairing a shot gun wound."

"What were you and John fighting about anyway," Mary asked, unwrapping Sophie's paw, "I think she has a bump on her tail now." She started to wrap the cloth around the tiny tail but Sophie hopped up and spun around to see what was happening behind her. The girl giggled and looked up at Christian. "My Mom and John used to fight too. He hit her in the face once and her nose was bleeding. I helped patch her up."

Artie exchanged a look with Christian. "Did your Mom ever tell anyone?" he asked. Mary shrugged and turned back to the kitten. "Well," he sighed, smoothing her hair down, "John wanted you to stay with him in California and I said your Mom wanted you to come back to Washington. So then he jumped off the train."

"Lori was mad," Mary said, pointing to the formal, rear door of the car, "she shot her shotgun off the back of the train! It made a big boom and a lot of smoke! She must have been signaling John to stop running away. And then she ran through here and went to where you all were by the horses. We hid in Jim's room and Sophie ran under the bed. I wanted to hide under the bed too," she said, trying again to bandage the tail. The kitten spun around, getting tangled in the strips of cloth.

"You can't fit under the bed," Artie said, teasing the girl. "Hey, John never punched you in the nose, did he?" He kept his voice light, trying to make the question sound like a joke.

"Oh, no," Mary said, "why would he hit me? I'm too small. My Mom said only big people fight."

Artie let out a sigh, "good, glad to hear it. Jim and Lori will be back soon with…" he stopped speaking as shots were heard outside. He rose from the chair, pushing Mary to the floor and under the table in one smooth motion. As he stepped forward, the train's breaks squealed as they engaged and the car shifted, throwing his weight to one side. He and Christian both fell back onto the sideboard, and then forward to the table, as the car shifted again. Regaining his balance, he rushed to the side windows as the train ground to a halt.

"Don't you move this here train!" A man was on horseback, yelling and pointing a revolver at the engine. "We are going inside. I'll leave a man or two out here to make sure this train don't move and I don't want no one getting off it!" Other men spread out, each riding a horse and holding revolvers, some moving forward toward Cobb and others moving to the back of the varnish car.

Artie spun, injuries forgotten, to face Christian. "It's the men from the alley. John's men," he said quickly, leaning down to scoop Mary into his arms. "Mary, we are going to play a game of hide and seek." He hurried down the hall and turned into the lab. The girl clung to his neck as he ran. "I am going to hide you and I don't want you to make a sound. Not a peep until we come get you. Understand?" He knelt on the floor, putting her feet down but keeping one arm around her. He reached into the wall to pull at a hidden latch and pulled out Jim's recessed clothing rack. He pushed the girl onto the rack and pulled clothes around her.

"But what about Sophie?" the tiny voice whispered.

"She's under the couch, it's her favorite spot," Artie said, carefully sliding the rack into the wall. "This will be dark but you should be able to see out through the crack but just don't come out even if you hear yelling. Promise?"

"Ok, I promise," the girl whispered. Her eyes were huge and she squatted on the base of the rack. "Are you going to fight again?"

"I hope not," Artie said, pushing the rack into the wall. Stepping back, he quickly made sure the rack didn't show in the wall. Satisfied, he turned and bumped into Christian.

"Hide," he snapped, "or disappear. It's your specialty, isn't it?" He was already moving into the hall toward the living room again. He pushed through the swinging doors and moved to the sideboard, his hand reaching for the ship with the hidden handguns beneath. Before he could flip the ship model the formal door crashed open.

"Don't move!" The leader pointed his revolver at Artemus as he pushed past the broken door.

Artemus turned to face him, holding his arms outstretched. "Come in, gentlemen, no need to knock." He stepped slowly into the center of the room, keeping the couch between them. If I can only move a few more steps to the right, he thought desperately, as two more gunmen entered the car.

tbc


	14. Chapter 14 Combined Efforts

Chapter 14. Combined Efforts

[

]

"He can't have gotten that far," Lori sighed, anger mixing with exhaustion. They had ridden for hours in the hot afternoon, the scrub trees blocking their view more than the rays of desert sun. She nudged her horse forward to stand in the shade of a mesquite. "If there were just some hills around here."

Jim took a sip of water from a canteen and hooked it back onto the saddle horn. He took off his hat and wiped his forehead with his tattered coat sleeve. "There are some hills to the left, further on. He may have gone that way thinking he could hide better. And that is the way back to his house, eventually."

"We've come farther than he could return on foot," Lori said. "He would steal a horse before he walked, I imagine." She looked at Jim "unless he has money hidden on him. I emptied his pockets but didn't look for hidden areas in his clothing. I didn't even look in his boots."

Jim grinned at her, "don't worry too much about that. Most people just keep things in their pockets. It's just us secret agents that hide guns in boot heels and have exploding buttons."

The girl raised an eyebrow, "excuse me? Exploding buttons?"

Jim made a mocking gasp, "you mean you don't have buttons that explode?" He laughed, edging his horse closer to the same tree. "I guess I haven't shown you all our tricks yet. It's not just the train that has hidden guns and bombs; we carry a lot with us. You just never know," he said. He pulled his boots up, wiggling a boot toe in front of him onto the saddle. He stood, slowly and carefully, putting both feet on the saddle and standing. He leaned a hand on the tree trunk and looked around as far as he could. The horse shifted its weight, "wow, big fella." He grabbed a larger branch and pulled himself into the tree, climbing the wide spread branches easily.

"Clever," Lori said, watching him. "Can you see anything?"

Jim stood for a few minutes in silence, looking in front and behind them. Quietly, he said, "I swear there is a dust cloud in front of us, a little ways off. Not someone on a horse, not big enough," he paused, his eyes narrowing as he watched. "It's the only thing I see."

"Going toward the mountains?" she asked.

"Yes," he said, climbing back down. "In fact, the dust cloud is almost to them. Let's hurry along and see if we can catch up before whatever it is reaches the thicker woods." He dropped into his saddle and took one more look around. "Toward that highest peak, dead ahead." He kicked the black and they both moved forward, leaving the shade.

"Sounds like a good plan," Lori said, "if it's him." She followed for a moment and then moved to his side, to avoid the dust stirred up by Blackjack.

back in the train...

[

]

"Gentlemen," Artemus said, as he walked slowly sideways in front of the couch. A few more steps he thought. "Make yourselves comfortable, please." He spread his arms out to the side, showing his hands were empty. The leader kept his revolver pointing at his chest but was looking around the room.

"Where is he?" The man snarled.

"Who?" Artemus said, smiling. "You are looking for someone?" He stole a quick glance at the man to the right of the leader. He was a dark haired, older man with a scar down his cheek. His dark eyes looked around the room, stopping at an expensive looking silver tea set on the side table, and then moving to the glass cupboard that held decanters of alcohol. He gripped a revolver but didn't seem interested in pointing it at him. Then Artie looked at the third man. He was the young blond whom he had seen in the alley earlier. I wonder how he liked the exploding flask, he thought to himself. The young man was holding a revolver also but was mostly looking at the floor, nervous and silent.

"John!" The leader yelled, recapturing everyone's attention. "We came to get him back. I tracked your friend back to this train in the yards. We watched you all day and then you finally pulled away out of town. So we went ahead and made a little welcome surprise for the engineer. We were going to weaken the trestle over the first big gulch yonder back but I didn't want to kill John too. So we just stopped the train without hurting anyone or anything."

"Well I appreciate your consideration for our well being" Artie said, bowing his head slightly. He shifted his feet, moving a few more inches to the right. "But you are too late. I am sure you noticed the door was missing to the stable car. That's where your friend escaped through. He is long gone and my friend has gone after him."

The leader looked at the older man and they exchanged a dark glance. Artie felt the hairs on the back of his neck raise when the two men both turned to face him. With two revolvers now pointing at him, he felt his plan die before he even started.

]

[

in the desert...

]

"Going to be dark soon," Jim said, as he dismounted. Blackjack blew and shook his head. Jim patted the animal's neck to calm it as he stepped closer to Lori. "I didn't grab any blankets and we don't have much food. It's going to be a long, cold night."

"I cannot believe we haven't caught up to him." Lori stomped around the side of her white horse, kicking the dirt angrily. She ignored Jim's concerns as she paced. "He was on foot, I saw what direction he went in. Did we ride past him? Was he hiding in a gopher hole?"

"He ran and ducked," Jim shrugged. "I think he moved as fast and far away from the train as he could. We can make a trap for him tonight when it get's dark. I'm pretty sure I can draw him in."

"Draw him in? With what for bait?" Lori looked at him, her eyebrows twisting with disbelief.

Jim turned and opened the saddle bag. He stuck a hand down inside and twisted, obviously digging around, moving items. His hand came out holding a small can. "Baked beans in a can. Smells good when heated and the odor will go a long way. And a hot cup of coffee with it. He must be starving since he took off just before lunch and has been running all day. I am sure we're nearby, we just can't put our finger on him."

"And you think he will give himself up for a cup of coffee and plate of beans," Lori hissed. "That's stupid." She stood, arms crossed over her chest, glaring at him from under the brim of her hat.

"I didn't say he would give himself up," Jim said, tossing the can in the air and catching it. "I said he would come in and try to get the food." He winked at her and put the can back in the saddle bag. "Let's get some wood for a fire. It's going to be cold tonight. These scrub trees won't give us much cover but it will be warmer buy that cliff."

"I think you're crazy but I'll take a cup of coffee and a plate of beans," Lori said, stooping over to pick up a branch from the ground. She jumped back with a squeal of surprise. Jim turned to see a brown snake with darker markings slithering away from her feet. "Oh, only a copperhead. I thought it was a rattler," she sighed.

"I thought Copperheads were also poisonous," Jim said, not moving as the snake slithered past his boots.

"They are but they don't usually kill you," Lori said, kicking the next branch before she picked it up. "But it would still ruin our evening. Just watch out." She started to pile wood in her arms, "fire by the cliff face?" She walked to a flat space and tossed the wood against the rock wall. "Should make a good chimney and spread the smoke everywhere."

Jim walked over and tossed his pile of wood on the ground, "of course we could also attract a few curious Indians." He winked at her, as she suddenly looked around nervously. "Maybe I should just keep you warm and we forget the fire." He suddenly wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her close against him.

"What?" the girl squealed, completely surprised by his sudden move.

Lori started to push away but he pulled her closer, pressing his lips to her's. He felt her stiffen but knew she would soon relax and embrace him, as girls usually did when he held them. He ran a hand up her spine, his body instantly warming inside, reacting to the feel of her body against his. Instead his left eye burst into needles of pain. He gasped and fell back, seeing stars inside his shut eyelid. "Ow!"

"What the hell do you think you're doing?!" Lori shoved him back into the cliff with one hand, her right fist held by her face, ready to punch him again.

Jim held a hand over his watering eye, "I have no idea," he growled. "It seemed like a good idea at the time. Just forget it." He dug into a pocket and pulled out a handkerchief, wiping his face.

"How dare you grab me like that?" Lori hissed back, "Is that how you treat women? Just grab one whenever you feel like it?" She spun on her heel and stomped off between the trees, kicking more fallen branches.

Jim watched her for a few minutes, as she stood with her back turned towards him, his irritation eventually being replaced by curiosity. Finally, with a long sigh, he said quietly, "look, I'm sorry. I didn't mean any harm and I didn't mean to upset you." He noticed that her arms were crossed over her chest and her shoulders were shaking. He walked slowly up behind her, careful not to touch her this time. "I'm sorry," he whispered, surprised at her reaction. "Are you all right? I guess I surprised you."

The girl took a few steps away from him and nodded silently. She bent over and snatched up a few more branches and walked past him, to the cliff, keeping her eyes averted from his. Jim sighed again, thinking to himself, "really blew that one."

He walked to Blackjack and pulled off the saddle bag. He carried it to the cliff and put it down near the growing pile of sticks. "Well, partner," he said to his absent friend, as Lori quickly moved away from him again, "what did you put in this bag of tricks?" He pulled out the can of beans and set it down on the ground. Then added another can, a paper bag, and a metal hook. The other side of the saddle bags held a small black frying pan, two small plates, and a long handled spoon. He placed the dry wood into a square shape, stacking the branches up, snapping longer ones into shorter sections. He emptied the paper bag into the pan and rolled the paper into a long section and jammed into between the sticks. He paused as Lori silently dropped another armload of wood on the ground next to him, still not looking at him. Jim watched her curiously, wondering why one kiss had caused such a negative reaction. He shook his head and dug in his pockets for a match. The dry paper lit instantly and helped spread the flame to the branches. Soon a small fire was burning, sending grey smoke up the cliff's face. Jim watched the smoke dissipate, grey swirls twisted off through the treetops above. Lack of any wind allowed the smoke to spread in all directions.

Lori returned with yet another armload and paused to watch the smoke. Then she looked from the frying pan to the cans. She quietly sat down on the opposite side of the fire and took a deep breath. Speaking into the dirt in front of her, she said quietly, "I'm sorry I reacted like that. I know you didn't mean me any harm. It was just a surprise and that's how I react to surprises."

Jim sat quietly for a moment, watching her body language. She sat hunched over, her arms still wrapped around her chest, staring at the ground. He had the urge to sit next to her and wrap a protective arm around her shoulder but was not ready yet to risk another punch. He touched his face, just below his right eye, feeling the tenderness. He could feel his eye lid swelling already. "I'm sorry I surprised you," he said, giving her his best grin. "I am probably more pushy than I should be. But you have to admit one thing," he paused, watching her.

The pale eyes rose slightly to look at him, "what," she snapped, obviously still not happy with him.

"It did warm you up?" He smiled, as she glared at him. "Oh, come on," he laughed, "I'm told I'm a pretty good kisser. But I'll ask first next time." Lori snorted and looked back at the cans. "And you punch as hard as Artie does; very impressive."

"Has Artie punched you?" She leaned back, stretching her back and moving her arms. The anger seemed to be slowly ebbing away. "I thought you two always got along."

Jim paused, thinking, "I don't think he has ever punched me in anger. It's been more of a situation where we need to fake someone out. It helps to suddenly change a scene if we need to start moving, surprise a guard, run for a door. So maybe he hasn't punched me as hard as he could."

Lori stared at him, noting the swelling eye. "Well maybe I could hit you harder if I wasn't surprised. Do I get a second try?"

Jim picked up the can of beans, "not tonight. You can surprise me next time." He picked up the metal tool and began to cut the top edge of the can open. "Dinner will be beans on broken crackers," he said, changing the subject. "It's one of my specialties. And canned peaches for dessert."

"And coffee?" Lori looked around, "I don't see a pot." Jim nodded toward his horse, "I'll get it." She stood and moved quickly to the horse, digging into more saddle bags. She walked back to the fire with a small coffee pot. She opened it and pulled out a brown paper sack. "How much do you put in?"

"Start pouring the grounds into the pot," he said, watching her closely, "I'll say when to stop." He waited as she slowly poured the grounds in from the sack. "Ok, that should be enough to put hair on your chest." He winked at her as she scowled. "And it should be strong enough to attract ole Johnny."

"Do you have a gun with you?" Lori asked, looking at his waist and clothing. "Or will you just beat him with the frying pan?" She patted her shotgun, "can't have mine."

"I did run out of the train without my usual gear," Jim said. He patted his side where his revolver usually hung and flexed his right arm, waving the torn sleeve, "no sleeve gun and no revolver." He winked at her, "I could be at your mercy." The girl's grey eyes narrowed in irritation again, "Or, I could show you my most secret handgun." He crossed his legs and grabbed the heel of his right boot. With a sharp twist, the heel popped off and he dropped out a set of twin gun barrels. Then he repeated with the other boot, showing her the grip and action of a small handgun.

"You have hollow heels on your boots?" She snorted, watching him put the gun together. "That's the smallest derringer I have ever seen." She leaned over to look at it. "Does it function?"

"Of course," Jim said, balancing the two pieces down on his knees. He reached for his belt buckle, sliding a piece of metal on the bottom edge to one side. Two cartridges dropped into his palm. "And it's very accurate, though I don't usually shoot any great distance with a Derringer." He put the ammunition in the gun barrels and snapped it shut. "And now that I am safely armed, I think we can eat. But we need to save some for our bait."

"I suppose," Lori grumbled, "though I think your idea is silly. He would more likely come after the horses." She glanced at two animals nearby. "Hey, your horse is untied." She started to rise and he held a hand out to stop her.

"Don't worry about him," Jim said, "he won't walk away. And if Johnny tries to ride him, especially bareback, that horse will toss him off and stomp on him." He looked up at Blackjack, "right, big fella?" The black's ears twitched and he watched Jim intently. Jim snorted, "and if any shooting starts, its better he can run, move out of the way." He spooned the beans and crackers onto a small plate and handed it to her. Lori took it eagerly, pulling a small knife from her belt to eat with.

"This is delicious," she muttered. "You're as good a cook as your partner. And, this time, I actually know what I'm eating," she laughed, taking another bite.

Jim reached behind his neck and pulled out his throwing knife and also began using it as a utensil. Lori watched yet another hidden weapon appear and rolled her eyes. He pushed the pan, with a small pile of beans, into the edge of the coals to keep it warm. "Artie does cook up some odd concoctions. One time he…" a twig snapped behind him and Lori's eyes snapped up to look beyond his shoulder. Then their eyes locked and Jim slowly set his plate down. He picked up the Derringer as Lori reached for her shotgun.

]

[

"But I am being rude," Artemus said, holding his hands wide again. "I should be offering you something to eat or drink. Wine or whiskey?" He waved a hand toward the cabinet as Christian seemed to appear before it. He was so startled, he jumped, but tried to smooth it over so the men wouldn't notice her. "Maybe you would like to invite the others inside. How many friends do you have with you?"

The leader jerked his head toward the broken door. "I got two more men outside. And if I want your whiskey or your food, I'll just take them after your dead. But I want something else first."

"And that is," Artie said, his voice taking a sharper edge. The conversation was going down hill fast, and the two aggressive men were now both facing him with guns drawn.

"I want that child too," the leader snarled. "John said she was worth money so we want her. She must come from a rich family back east that will pay to get her back. So where is she? You got her hidden somewhere, I bet. Maybe a little fire will flush her out," he laughed, elbowing his friend in the side.

"No," Christian said, stepping forward toward the group. The men all spun to face her, surprise clear on their faces. "Your friend John took little Mary with him. That's why Lori went after him with Mr. West." She stood to the left of Artemus, near the dining room table. Her hands were crossed over her chest and her fingers were nervously fidgeting near her sides.

"Well aren't you the pretty thing," the leader said, looking her up and down. The side-kick let out a long whistle, also looking her over. "Where did you come from? You been hiding under the table or something?"

The youngest stepped around his friends to get a better look at her. "That's the one John said was a witch. He said she can appear and disappear and cast spells on men."

"That's crazy talk," the leader snapped. "She's just a girl, quiet and shy. This hear fella had us talking and we just didn't see her walk in." He spoke firmly but his feet took a few steps back. He turned again to face Artemus, the revolver back to pointing to him. "Now why didn't you mention John took Mary when we first came here? You could have saved us a mess of time," he laughed, raising the revolver to eye level. "Now we don't need you but I will take your woman and your whiskey."

"Over my dead body," Artie growled, as he took his last step to the right, finally reaching the right end of the couch. The toe of his boot moved quickly and the matched set of revolvers on the side table spun.

The leader laughed, not noticing the pair of handguns pointing at him. "That was my idea," he laughed, pulling the hammer back on his gun. Two loud shots rang out in the small room and the man dropped his firearm. He staggered back to the fireplace, reached out to it for support, but slowly slid to the floor.

Artie snatched one of the revolvers from its table stand and looked to the other men. The one nearest Christian was lying on his back on the carpet. The third man was standing rigid and shaking, inching toward the door.

"Hold it," Artie snapped. The young fellow tore his eyes from his fallen companions to look at him. "Drop your gun! Now!" the revolver clunked to the carpet and the kid stepped back again. His hands came up as his mouth hung open, moaning. "I'm not going to shoot you. Just don't move," Artie said, his voice softening, as he could see the man was no threat.

Artie moved to the second dead man. He looked down and gasped. Two small throwing knives were impaled on either side of the man's windpipe. Two red drizzles of blood were running down his neck onto the carpet. Artie looked up at Christian's face and then to her waist. The neat row of throwing knives had two empty pockets.

"I'm sorry," Christian said, tears coming to her eyes. "I thought they would both shoot you. I didn't know what else to do." She covered her mouth as she choked back a sob.

"No, no, no," Artie said, breaking into a smile. "You did the right thing. I didn't want them to shoot me either." He walked to her and wrapped an arm around her shoulder, hugging her. "Thank you. I wasn't sure how I was going to take care of both of them. Why don't you go check on Mary while I speak to this young man? Keep her in Jim's room until I come for you." He was keeping one eye on the kid but the young man didn't seem to be moving a muscle. He kissed the top of her head as she turned to move down the hallway and Artie walked back to the one surviving gang member.

"Who are the two outside?" Artie snapped, nodding his head toward the windows.

"Those are my cousins, Darrel and Doug" the man said. "My name is Tim and I didn't want this to happen. I'm sorry. I'm glad you didn't get shot or that lady. I didn't want anyone to get hurt." His eyes shut and tears rolled down his cheeks as his chin quivered. "I didn't know they was this mean."

Artie rolled his eyes and reached out to squeeze the man's shoulder. "Do you have any other weapons on you?" The man shook his head. "Why don't you sit down by the desk." He led the man to the chair behind the desk as movement occurred just outside the door. Artie brought his gun up but instantly noticed it was the engineer. "Cob, come in and join the party."

Cobb walked slowly into the varnish car, his eyes going to the two dead gunmen and then to the live one near Artie. He nodded, "you have had a day of it," he drawled. "Would you like these two moved out to the stable car? I thought we should get going again."

"Tracks clear," Artie said, "no damage?"

Cobb nodded, "there was a signal fire but it didn't do more than darken the boards. Everything seems fine."

"Watch out moving around outside," Artie said, as Cobb walked to the first dead man. The young fireman was behind him, waiting to carry whatever needed carrying. "There are two more of them out there," he added.

"Oh, no there ain't," the fireman said, grinning, "There was but they ain't there no more after I took my rifle to them. They run for the hills."

Tim groaned and dropped his face into his hands. Artie squeezed his shoulder again, feeling sorry for the kid. He nodded to Cobb as the first body was carried past. "I will go through their pockets later. Just toss him in a corner for now. We'll turn them over at the next town." He pulled Tim to his feet, "let's you and I go to the stable car too. I have another comfortable place for you to sit." He escorted him outside as Cobb and his helper returned to carry out the second corpse.

tbc...


	15. Chapter 15 Sudden Ending

Chapter 15 – Sudden Ending

[

"Tim," Artie said, as the group approached the stable car. "Climb up there. You and I need to talk for a while." Tim climbed up the broken ramp and stood in the car, looking at the horses. Artie climbed more slowly, pausing as Cobb gave him a shove from behind. "Hopefully we can get that ramp fixed soon."

Tim looked at the horses, stepping up to pat a hand down the palomino's rump. The horse blew at him, twisting its head to look back at the stranger. "Nice horse. Glad it didn't get hurt either. And that's a nice chestnut there," he said, looking at Artie's horse a few steps away. He looked down at the post, with the handcuffs still attached. "You want to lock me up out here?" His eyes stayed on the floor, not looking up at Artie.

Cobb walked past, holding the feet of one of the dead men. "Need to check those bracelets. Don't think they work too well."

Tim grinned, "oh, it's not them, its John." He snorted, "don't know how he does it but he can work them bracelets off of his wrists. Seen him do it before."

"Great trick," Artie growled, "He should do parties." He took a deep breath and looked at Tim. "So this is the deal, young man. My partner has gone after John. He will want to speak to you when he gets back. I'm not sure how long that will be so I need to lock you up out here. We'll feed you, water, whatever you need. And I can stay out here with you. But I'm tired and it's been a long day and as soon as I sit down, I'm going to fall asleep. So will you cooperate and let me hook those handcuffs to you?"

"Am I under arrest," the young man said quietly? "I ain't never been arrested before."

"Well," Artie said "let's just say you are being detained." Tim looked up at him quizzically. "Put on ice? Short term storage?" He smacked Tim in the shoulder, "Look, you haven't injured anyone as far as I can see. And you haven't given me any trouble. I just want to keep you for a while so my partner can talk with you." Tim nodded and quietly sat down in front of the pole. Artie knelt behind him and quickly unlocked the handcuffs. He moved them around Tim's wrists and closed them with a loud click. He yanked on them but the metal appeared locked in place. "Ok, Tim, you just relax for a while." He squeezed the man's shoulder and stood up.

"Mr. Gordon," the fireman said, "do you think we should pull these here knives out of this feller's throat?" The man poked at the knife handle, making the dead man's head wobble. "They sure are stuck in there. I wonder what they hit to kill him so fast. Did he choke? Did it go into his brain?"

Artie walked over to the corner of the car and knelt between Cobb and his assistant. "I think he died of fright. I know I almost did just looking at this." He reached out to push the knife handle down, feeling the tip scrape bone, "right into his spinal cord inside his neck." He yanked the handle up and pulled the knife out. Then reached over to pull the second one out, "Two to the spinal cord in almost the same location." He sighed, looking at the long, narrow blades. "She will want these back."

Cobb kicked the other dead man, "and you put two bullets in this one," he drawled. "You think people would know not to enter that train car. It never works out for them."

Artie stood, holding the knives. "We could post a sign, 'Enter at your own risk'". He nodded, "I'll go through their pockets later. I want to check on the child. Can one of you stay out here for a few minutes?"

Cobb nodded to the fireman and the man darted away, jumping out of the car onto the ground. "He'll fire up a good head of steam, then we can switch places. Take your time."

Artie nodded and moved out of the stable car and into the varnish car. He paused at the first door, to toss the bloody knives into a ceramic bowl in his room. Then he hurried to Jim's room. He could hear Mary crying inside as he opened the door.

"What's all this noise in here," he said quietly, moving to Mary as she sat in Christians' lap. The two were sitting in the center of Jim's bed, holding onto each other. Mary turned large, watery eyes to Artie.

"Oh, I was so scared," she cried. "I could hear yelling and loud noises." She held her arms out to Artie as he sat on the edge of the bed.

"Now, now," he said, pulling the child closer. "It's not that bad. We yell and make loud noises all the time around here. But I need you to stop crying and help me do something very important."

The girl wiped her wet face and looked up at him. "What?"

Artie smiled down to her, "we need to find Sophie. I want to make sure she didn't jump off the train in all the excitement. I hope she is just under the couch. Do you want to help me look?"

The child jumped off the bed, filed with sudden energy, "oh, Sophie?" She scampered from the room and raced down the hall to the varnish car's living room, calling the kitten's name.

"You certainly calmed her down quickly," Christian said. "She was hysterical."

Artie grinned, wrapping his arms around the woman's narrow waist. "I have a way with crying, hysterical women." He kissed her, and then pushed her away just far enough to look down into her eyes. "I thought I told you to hide. The one time I needed you to be invisible and you end up standing next to me." He tried to sound stern but his voice broke, "why did you come out there?"

Christian wrapped her arms around his neck pulling him closer, her face against his cheek. "I was so afraid for you. I didn't think you could stop all three. I had to do something."

Artie said, gently kissing her neck. "This is my work. I have ways of taking care of things." He pulled back again, "but I did appreciate the help. You were incredible." The young woman smiled up at him at the compliment. "I guess you can take care of yourself too. Those knives were…," he made an elaborate shudder and cringed. "I have your two knives back. Hate to see empty loops on your belt."

Christian laughed and leaned against him, "you will have to tell Jim all about this. He thinks we are useless and weak and stupid…"

"And in the way," Artie laughed, "and not really agents. Well, you convinced me." He leaned down to kiss her again as Mary reappeared in the doorway.

"I found Sophie," the child announced, holding out the kitten. Artie twisted around to look at them, relieved to see the cat unharmed and still on board. "She was under the couch, just like you said, but she came out when I called to her. She is really smart. I'm going to get her some milk now." The child turned and moved down the hall, hugging the animal to her face. A loud crashing sound came from the kitchen and Sophie came dashing back into the bedroom to hide under the bed.

"I think you need to go save my kitchen," Artie said, standing and pulling Christian to her feet. "And I need to go talk with young Tim." He kissed her again and then leaned down to pat the kitten's head as the ears pocked out from the edge of the blanket's hem. "Glad you're safe, Sophie," he said. Then he moved to the hallway and back toward the stable car.

[

]

Jim's eyes searched the darkness for the loud snapping sound he had heard. A shadow moved between some trees and his hand clenched the small grip of the handgun. A flash of white moved a few feet further back. He started to rise but Lori hissed at him from the other side of the fire.

"Jim", she said, "its two antelope. Can't you see them?"

Jim turned to look at her, seeing her pointing farther to the left. He turned back just as a small deer stepped out into the moonlight from behind a tree. "I was looking further to the right. I think there are a couple more." He watched a small herd appear out of the shadows and move behind the horses. Blackjack blew at one that got too close and the smaller animal bolted away. "Tomorrow we may need to shoot one for supper, it we are still out here messing around."

"Camping out with you is so much fun," Lori drawled. "I do one to point out one thing," she paused, waiting for Jim to settle back down. "I want to take John alive," Lori said softly, her pale eyes watching him over the low fire. "You don't need to increase your death rate on this trip."

"I am against killing," Jim said, pausing as the girl snorted, "Unless the other person is trying to kill me. Man or women." Lori raised an eyebrow at the last word "Not that I have killed a women," Jim added, "yet."

"Whatever," Lori said tiredly. She pulled off her coat and leaned down onto the horse blanket near the fire. She reached down to her right boot and pulled out a long, double-bladed knife. She laid it over her stomach and pulled the coat over herself. Then she reached out with her right hand, pulling the shotgun closer to her side.

"All tucked in for the night?" Jim said, watching her arrange her weapons and hands. "That's a lot of weaponry for someone you want to take alive."

"Or maybe I just don't want you bothering me tonight," she said, lying back and closing her eyes. "Either of these would leave a mark."

Jim laughed, standing up, "well you can just stay away from me too then. I'll be up here in the woods, sad and lonely. Holler if you need anything." He picked up his canteen and Derringer and moved silently into the trees.

[

]

"Artemus," Cobb whispered, nodding toward the agent. "I hope you don't mind but,' the engineer had stopped the agent as he walked into the stable car, "…but I let the young man help me with the horses. I never unchained a prisoner before but he was crying and it was breaking me all up inside, I tell ya."

Artie's eyes watched Tim in the dim recess of the stable car, brushing his chestnut horse. The man moved slowly and carefully, speaking softly to the horse. "well, I suppose it was all right, Cobb. You have the shotgun and we are going pretty fast. He wouldn't want to jump out the door in the darkness." He glanced toward the open wall of the stable car. The doorway, usually shut when traveling, was an ominous black rectangle.

"He and I have been doing a lot of talking tonight," Cobb said, "I was hoping you would spend some time with him. He seems to be a good, young man. Just fallen in with a bad crowd, you might say."

"That's often what happens," Artie nodded. "Let me have the gun and you can go back up front. We must be approaching a town soon. I have been seeing lights ahead."

Cobb nodded, handed the shotgun to Artemus, and walked to Tim. He stood close, speaking low to him, and then moved out the further door which lead to the engine. Tim lowered his head and stood quietly as Artie approached.

"Cobb doesn't usually speak to our guests, much less unchain one we have detained," Artie said quietly. "He is also a hard man to impress. He tells me you seem like a decent young man that may deserve a second chance." Tim shifted his feet and still kept his eyes down. "Why don't we sit down and relax for a few minutes. We will be in a town soon. Let's make a plan before we arrive," he said, waving a hand to the floor. He waited for Tim to sit down, his back against the grain bin. Artie sat too, keeping the shotgun across his knees, but not pointing at the young man. "So tell me how you started to run with this gang of smugglers?" The boy just shrugged. "Ok, let's start with something easier. Do you have any family? Parents? Brothers or sisters?"

Tim took a deep breath, "Ma died last year. My Pa died in the war. Ain't got no one else but my cousins." He wiped a hand over his nose, "after Ma died, I went to live with my cousins. They're a lot older than me, by a good ten years. They is twins," he said, looking up at Artie now. "They look just the same. Kinda creepy. They act the same too. I didn't feel right living with them. They didn't work, and they would steal food from the neighbors." Tim took a deep breath, "then I found this here fella that would give me a job, pay me money. So my cousins started working too. I thought it was all fine but now that fella turns out…well, that he wasn't so nice after all. And he wasn't the only one neither."

"Tim, can you tell me what you did for work?" Artie glanced at the doorway as a bright lantern buzzed past. Lights were glowing in the distance as the train approached the town.

"I started out taking care of the horses," Tim said, "John, the owner, has a big stable with lots of horses. Then I started driving delivery wagons from his house to a warehouse in town. And to the rail yards too." He tipped his head sideways, "you probably won't believe me but…"

"But what," Artie said, nodding for him to continue.

"Well, John had this here ledger book with secret codes in it and I would help him keep track of what was in the wagons." He grinned, "the other fellas could never remember what the codes meant, like gold and silver, but I could. I thought it was easy." He grinned, nodding to Artie. "It made me feel good to know I could use my brain. John said having a good, active brain was important." He sighed, "but that was before all this trouble started."

"What trouble?" Artie asked, relived to see that Tim was willing to talk, almost to relieve his guilty feelings. "Did the work out here change?"

Tim thought for a minute, and then nodded, "It started back east," he said slowly, "and it started with a woman too."

Artie chuckled, "that's usually how it starts." The train ground to a halt and then began backing up. "I think we are about to park at the train yards." He paused, noticing how Tim's eyes watched the activity outside. Taking a chance, Artie asked quietly, "would you like to help fix the train? It would be a good trade to learn…"

"Oh, would I," Tim exclaimed. "Mr. Cobb has been telling me all about it and he said if I was good and didn't cause trouble and worked hard for you, that you and your friend would let me stay on the train and learn how the engine works and…"

"Wow," Artie said, holding up a hand, laughing at the young man's enthusiasm. "Ok, you can do all that if you keep close to either me or Cobb. Agreed? And later, we will continue this conversation?" Tim nodded and they both rose, as men approached the open doorway.

An older man, chewing tobacco, peered in at Artemus and past him into the stable car. Spitting on the ground, he squinted up at the agent. "So what is it ya need fixed, mister?"

Artie rolled his eyes and pointed at the broken bits of ramp and metal hinges. "I would have thought it was obvious. I need a new ramp for this car. Can it get replaced quickly?"

The man spit again and scratched at his chest through a filthy shirt. "Oh, sure, sure, it can get fixed but I make no promises on how quickly it be done. This ain't no city here and we do good work. Fast work will cost you a bit extra," the man snickered, winking up at Artie. "Let's say ou and I do some dickering about the pay." He cackled again, stepping back and Artie jumped to the ground. Cobb appeared next to him and Tim climbed down too. Other men were soon crowding the area, many carrying lanterns, all looking at the private train car.

[

]

Another twig snapped in the trees near the horses. Lori opened one eye and looked around the camp. The full moon was out, shining light down onto the small opening in the thin woods. The fire was now only coals, glowing next to her head. The heat still radiated from the cliff's face, helping to keep her warm. She closed her eyes, wondering if Jim was cold under the trees on the knoll above her.

She heard another crack of a twig and the movement of the horses. Another sound, closer this time, sent the hairs on her neck rising. She fought the urge to open her eyes, move, or even breath. Her right hand clamped hard on the knife's slim handle underneath her coat. She shifted her weight, as if in sleep, planting her heels into the gravel and moving her left hand to the ground next to her. Readying her nerves, she opened both eyes to see John leaning over her, his face close to her's.

In the split second of surprise, she pushed up to a sitting position, throwing the jacket off and raising her right hand. The moonlight glinted off the long blade. John recoiled at the sight of the knife, his hand grabbing at the shotgun.

"Don't move," Lori snarled, reaching for his arm.

John snatched up the shotgun and Lori stabbed the blade deep into his forearm. John cried out in pain and threw himself backwards, dropping the gun. Lori lost the grip of the knife as he fell over onto his back. She lurched after him but his boots came up, blocking her.

"Don't move," Lori said again, turning to grab the shotgun. John rolled away, pulling the knife from his arm, and turned back to attack her as she raised the gun up. She thumbed back the two hammers with an ominous double click but paused before aiming at John, seeing movement behind him.

"Stop," Jim said, wrapping his left arm around John's neck. He yanked back, pulling John off balance, taking him to the ground, backwards, in one movement. "You are under arrest, again," he said, "and…" his order ended in a grunt of pain as John stabbed backwards, piercing Jim's left side underneath his raised arm. "Stop!" Jim yelled again, as the sharp tip bit into his skin a second time.

Lori ran up and wrapped her arms around John's wrist and forearm, twisting. A loud snap was heard and John screamed, the knife falling from his fingers. His hand was bent at an odd angle to his arm. He fell backwards, in a twist of boots, landing on top of Jim, as they all crashed to the ground.

"Ahh," Jim screamed in anguish as the hot coals of the camp fire burned through his jacket. He twisted, shoving John away from him, and rolled off the coals. He lay on his side, his left arm clamped tight against his side, as his back smoldered.

Lori grabbed the front of John's coat, pulling him farther away from Jim. The man stumbled but brought up his uninjured hand, punching Lori across the face. She fell backwards onto the ground near her camp bed. John dove at the dropped knife as she grabbed up her shotgun, still lying on the ground near the fire.

Grasping the knife, he held the long blade towards her, moving closer. "Drop it, John. You've done enough damage for one night!" Growling in anger, the man charged her, drawing the knife up over his head as if to stab down at her.

"NO!" Jim lurched to his knees, bracing himself to jump John again but froze as he saw the shotgun rise.

As John reached Lori, she leaned back, bracing her boots in the gravel, and fired both barrels into his midsection. The man's body flew backward from the impact of the shot and landed near Jim on the ground. The body, bloody and twisted in its shredded clothing, expelled a long breath and was silent.

Jim shifted himself into a sitting position to look back at Lori. "You all right," he hissed between clamped teeth. He tried to study her face for bruises in the flickering light of the low fire.

"Ya," Lori said, opening the gun to pull the smoldering shells out. She put them in a pocket and jammed two new shells in. "You? How bad did he get you with my knife?"

Jim tried to look down at his side but couldn't see anything in the darkness. He started to move his left arm but gasped in pain. "Think I could use a bandage. Maybe two," he added, nodding toward the saddlebags. "Dig around, usually something…" he clamped his teeth shut and watched her move through slitted eyes.

Lori checked the leather pockets and quickly pulled out a roll of white bandages. She picked up the fallen knife and knelt next to Jim. "You cost me money, you know," she growled, leaning over to look under his elbow.

"Excuse me?" He gasped as he pulled his left arm away from his side. "You shot him."

"It's still your fault," she said. Ripping sounds came from his shirt and she pushed his jacket aside. "Oh, hell, take this off. I'm no nurse, I'll warn you."

"Can't cook, can't nurse," Jim muttered, as she pulled the sleeve of his jacket off his left arm. "Brings a knife to a gun fight and then shoots people." He breathed gulps of air as she pressed a square of cloth against his side. "How is it?"

"I can't see in the dark but it seems to be bleeding a lot. It's just on the side, over your ribs. I don't think it's that deep." She leaned around to wink at him, "He almost missed you."

"Funny," Jim grunted. He shifted his shoulders, "I think that damned fire was pretty hot too. I would have stayed in the trees if I knew you would just shoot him." He winced as Lori pulled his shirt from his pants and looked at his back. "What's it look like?"

"Looks like you may have some more scars to add to your collection," she said. "Don't the girls think your scars are exciting? I bet you have lots of stories for each mark." Jim snorted but stayed silent. "I was hoping you were going to use some ole James West moves that I hear about."

"I didn't realize you had given him your knife," Jim hissed. He peered at her more closely, leaning over to see her face. "Are you all right? I think your lip is bleeding." She touched a finger to her mouth and wiped her hand on her pants, shrugging. Jim sighed, shaking his head. "So why did you shoot him?"

"He came at me with the knife and I didn't have a second one to fight him with," she said, shrugging. She leaned close, reaching around his waist, quickly pulling a long bandage around his middle. She wrapped it tight, holding the bandage against the stab wounds. "And you were no help, passed out on the ground. So what's a girl to do?" Jim turned to look at her, again studying her face in the moonlight, as she tied the bandage ends. "It just cost me money, but who needs money, anyway."

"Cost you money?" Jim asked, surprised. "How?"

"Bounty isn't as high when I bring them in dead," she said, pulling his coat over his shoulder. She paused as she caught his eye. They were leaning against each other, breathing close. "But he will be easier to manage on the train." She sat back on her heels, watching him.

Jim frowned at her, "bounty? Secret Service agents don't get paid bounty money." His voice took on a hard edge. "If you were a real agent, you wouldn't receive bounties."

Lori's pale eyes glared back, her voice becoming sharp now too. "If I was an important agent like you and Artemus, living in a fancy private train car, I would get paid more. But part of my salary comes from who I catch. And you can ask Richmond about it when you drag your sorry ass back to Washington." She stood up and moved to John's body, looking down at him. The body was in the shadows of a large tree, hiding the bloody mess that was already smelling. "He will have to go on a horse to transport to the nearest town. Then I need to notify Richmond. He had wanted to interview him when I got him back, he wanted to find out about the shipments." She kicked the body in frustration.

Jim let out a long, tired breath, "John didn't seem to be the talkative type. You did what you could." He lay down on his side, close to the fire, and closed his eyes. He listened to Lori move around the camp, adding fuel to the fire. He opened one eye to see sparks flying up into the air, climbing the cliff. He drifted to sleep as he felt something being draped over his shoulder.

[

]

The next morning,…

]

Jim woke up to the smell of coffee. He didn't move, trying to place where he was. His head was on something soft but it wasn't a pillow. And his body was covered but not with blankets. He definitely wasn't lying on his bed. He cracked open his eyes and could just make up Lori sitting across the camp fire drinking from a metal cup.

"Good morning," she said, watching him. "You might not want to move too fast. I bet you're cold and stiff. You need to be careful of that wound."

"Coffee," Jim moaned, "just pour it down my throat."

"Sorry," Lori grinned, "this is my coffee. I didn't make enough for two."

Jim opened his eyes, seeing a towel folded under his head and her jacket over his shoulders. His legs were covered with his saddle blanket. He grimaced as he pushed himself to a sitting position. His left arm stayed tight against his side and he couldn't sit up straight. "Ow," he moaned. "Hurts."

"Hmmm," Lori said, not impressed. "My brothers get more inured in the hay fields so toughen up. We need to get to the train today. Artie can play nursemaid or maybe we can find a town with a doctor to stitch you back together."

Jim glared at her, "Artie and I stitch each other back together all the time. Even dig bullets out, usually in just arms and legs," he added. He paused, and winked at her, "though I don't think I want to go haying with your brothers." He held his hand out, wiggling his fingers, and pointing at the coffee pot. Lori picked up a second mug and filled it with the steaming liquid. "Thank you," he said.

"Well it's a good thing you at least didn't catch any pellets when I shot John last night," Lori said, "I wouldn't want to have to dig them out of your hide today."

"Me neither," Jim snorted, as he sipped his coffee. "I don't think Artie would either. There are limits to what one partner has to do for another." He started to stretch and then stopped suddenly, wincing. He caught Lori's eye watching him. "I have an expandable travois to hook behind a horse," he said, pausing.

"You think you're that bad?" Lori asked worriedly. "You don't think you can ride?"

Jim smiled, surprised at her genuine concern. "I can ride. The travois is for John. You blasted him in half last night. If we toss him over a saddle, he may split in two and I don't need to see that, if you don't mind." He nodded toward the saddle. "It's strapped underneath the back of my saddle."

Lori walked over and ran her finger tips along the back edge of the black saddle. "This is amazing," she said, pulling away thin metal rods held together with narrow leather straps. "You two have more gadgets…" She came back to the fire and unfolded the apparatus.

Jim grimaced, moving his right hand to his wound. He fingertips came away bloody. "Or maybe you will have to drag me back after all." The mug of coffee slipped from his hand and he slowly lay back down onto his side. Lori watched him and began pushing the metal rods together, guessing at how it was assembled.

]

[

tbc


	16. Chapter 16 Reunited

Chapter 16: Reunited

]

Artie's heart leaped into his throat as his eye caught the flicker of a horse's tail, from a black horse, in the distance. He squinted into the bright morning sunlight, seeing the rider wearing a dark blue jacket. He stepped sideways for a better look but, as the man approached, he sighed, seeing that it wasn't his absent partner. As the unknown man passed by, he turned back to Cobb.

"I'm sorry, what did you say?" Artie sighed.

Cobb spit on the ground and looked at the train. Men were cutting off the pieces of splintered wood where it was still attached to the metal hinges. "I was saying that them hinges was twisted and will need to be replaced. I asked that a blacksmith come over and look to see what needs to be done."

Artie nodded, "whatever you think is best, Cobb." He watched the workmen, "do you think this will be done today? I need to speak to the office about the schedule and when we can get track clearance."

Cobb rubbed his stubbly chin, "I can't rightly say now. We need to wait and see what the blacksmith says. Could have to wait for parts to be made or maybe he can fix these. I supposed he could remove them and heat them up, straighten them."

Artie patted the engineer's shoulder, "take all the time you need. I have a feeling Jim will be longer than I thought at first. I wish he had taken more supplies with him. Handing him a couple of canteens and food for a day or two was not good planning. He should have been back by now." He turned again as another black horse in the distance caught his eye. "Maybe we can…" he paused, watching the horse and rider turn into the town instead of toward the train, as Jim would have. Clearing his throat, he started again, "let's see about splitting the stable car from the varnish, and move the horses to the corral. I am sure we'll be spending the night."

Cobb nodded as Artie moved to the yard office.

]

]

Jim leaned his back against the stone cliff, trying to absorb its heat through his coat in the cool morning shade. He twisted his spine, trying to find a comfortable position. The burns on his back itched and sent pains shooting everywhere. The stab wounds in his left side had subsided to a dull throb unless he moved. The blood had dried up but the area around the stab holes was red and swollen. He shifted again and Lori caught the movement.

"Sit still," she snapped, tossing a wallet toward him. "I'll bring this shit to you in just a minute." She looked back at the body in front of her as she knelt on the ground. "Lord knows I am going as fast as I can." She swatted at flies that buzzed now around the bloody mess in the abdominal area. Pulling the jacket open had released flies and maggots but she had wanted to search the dead man's pockets.

"I was just stretching," Jim said, his voice weak. He lifted the canteen with his right hand and sipped sparingly. He squinted toward the sky, "we should have left earlier, before daybreak. This sun is going to be strong today."

"It's the desert," Lori said, "when isn't it strong?" She tossed an envelope onto the wallet, seeing Jim's eyes move to it. "You're a pushover for an envelope of papers, aren't you?" Jim grinned at her. "How about a small book?" A small, black leather book was added to the growing pile. The pockets were soon all turned inside out and she sat back on her boot heels.

"I hope something in that pile will be useful," Jim said. "Do you need help getting him on the frame? Though we could just leave him here for the buzzards."

Lori shook her head, "I told you he is still worth money, even being dead. He is not smelling very good though. I hope we don't have to drag him long." She looked around, "I bet every coyote in the area will be trailing behind us today. Buzzards too." She grabbed the edges of the heavy coat and pulled them around the body, fixing the buttons. "That's as much as I can do. I can drag him to the frame by his shoulders." Grasping the coat, she pulled the dead man over the sand, the head flopping from side to side, the eyes staring blankly at nothing. She dropped the body onto the metal and leather mesh fame. With a few adjustments, the body was soon strapped on.

"That smells bad," Jim said, his nose wrinkling. "And I've smelled some bad things in my time." He waved the canteen at a fly that was moving around his face. "I think I'll ride ahead of you."

Lori sighed and stood, hands on hips, looking down at him. "Ya, now to get you on your horse." She turned to walk to the horses nearby. Her white mare was nibbling on the branches of a mesquite while Jim's black was grazing nearby in the shade of a thicker stand of trees. She lead her horse, already saddled, to the frame and attached the leather straps to either side of her saddle. "There, that wasn't so bad."

Jim whistled to his horse, "come on Blackjack, time to go," he said softly. The horse quickly approached and stopped at Jim's feet, ears flickering as the flies moved closer. Lori reached down to take the saddle blanket off Jim's legs. "I can do that," he said, putting the canteen down and picking up his hat.

"Don't you dare move," Lori snapped, glaring at him. He sat back against the cliff, amused but silent. "If I don't get you back to the train alive, Artemus would kill me and then die of a heart attack."

Jim laughed, shaking his head, "I'll die on duty, but it won't be from this."

"Nice, hopeful yet depressing at the same time," Lori said, rolling her eyes. She put the blanket on the horse's back and leaned down to pick up the saddle. Blackjack twisted his neck and bit the blanket, pulling it off. He dropped it on the ground and whinnied, stomping on it. "What? I don't have time for a game of charades with a horse." She grabbed the blanket and tried to put it on the horse but he stepped away, sideways.

"Blackjack," Jim said, clicking his teeth. "Be good, big fella." The horse blew at him and tossed its head. Jim put the canteen down again and raised a hand to grab the dangling rein. "Stand still," he said, jostling the strap. Jim winked up at Lori as the annoyed girl stood with the blanket. "Go ahead now. He does this with Artie all the time. At least he didn't try to bite you."

"He bites Artie?" Lori quietly put the blanket on the horse and quickly added the saddle.

"They have terrible fights," Jim grinned, "don't ya, boy? Blackjack bit his shoulder the other day and it was black and swollen. And then I got blamed, of course." The horse turned its ears, obviously listening to his voice.

"All saddled," Lori announced, stepping back from the horse. "Do you think you can stand and climb up?"

Jim grinned at her and looked back at the stallion. "Blackjack, down boy, down," he said, pulling down on the rein. The horse paused and then lowered down onto its two front legs. And then slowly lowered down to its back legs. Jim rose to his feet, leaning heavily on the horse's neck, and moved to the saddle. He grasped the horn and raised his right leg over the saddle. He slowly lowered himself to the seat and grasped the horn, clicked his tongue. "Ok, up, boy, up." The horse lurched side to side as it climbed to his feet. Jim's body swayed but he kept his seat.

"Wow," Lori said, surprised, "That is impressive. Did you teach him that?"

"I taught him everything," Jim said quietly, patting his hand along the horse's neck. "We do everything together, don't we, big fella," he said. The horse whinnied and tossed its head. "Still working on not biting Artie though," he grinned.

"Obviously he's just jealous," Lori said, patting the horse's side, "The horse, not your partner, of course. So you feel strong enough to ride for a while?"

"Good enough," Jim said, looking down at her. "You're not tying what's left of ole John over my saddle so I can't switch places with him." He squinted up at the sky. "Hopefully we don't have to go too far. We can go east, cut across the tracks, and follow them to the next town. Artie will be having the train fixed and wait for us."

Lori climbed onto her horse and pulled the wide brimmed hat down low over his eyes, "lead the way."

]

]

The varnish car lurched to a stop and the whistle blew a long blast. Mary squealed with delight and jumped back from the window. "The train broke in half and then went back together and now it's even shorter! I love this train," she announced. "Let's never leave it."

"Never, ever?" Artemus said, kneeling down to look her in the eye. "But I had hoped to leave right away." The girl glared at him with tiny fists on her hips. He smiled at her, thinking how much she reminded him of Jim at times. He leaned closer and whispered, "I wanted to take two pretty young ladies out to lunch today." He wiggled his eyebrows at the girl and she burst into laughter.

"Oh, really?" Christian said. She sat on the couch, looking at them from over its back. Sophie lay stretched out on the gold cloth, purring, as the young woman patted the soft fur. "And who are these two pretty young ladies of whom you speak?"

Artie looked over at her, grinning, "well, I will give you a hint. Its two pretty ladies on this train." He paused, looking at her black shirt, "though we need to find you more appropriate attire." He stood, looking down at Mary. "Want to help find her a dress to wear?" Mary jumped up and down squealing again. "I thought so," he said, putting a gentle hand on the top of her head. He looked at Christian who was sitting silently, staring at the kitten. "Well? Are you game?"

Christian looked up at him, whispering, "I didn't bring a dress with me. Do you think I shouldn't go as I am?"

Artemus bowed, "I am offering what few dresses we have on board." He stood, holding out a hand. "Please?" He smiled, relieved, as she stood, looking at him quizzically. He took her hand and pulled her closer, whispering, "We occasionally have guests in need of a change of clothing so we have a variety of dresses. Nothing fancy, just day dresses, but possibly more acceptable to the people of this town…"

"You just don't want me arrested for dressing out of my gender," Christian smiled, her fingers slowly twisting the buttons on his jacket. "All right, dressmaker, lead the way. They must be hidden since I didn't see any dresses when I looked through your closets the other day."

Artie grinned, taking her hand, "they are packed away. We may need to shake the wrinkles out." They walked together down the hall, followed by a curious child, now carry a wiggly kitten.

]

]

Jim sipped again from the canteen, shaking it to determine how empty it was becoming. "We're getting short of water," he said quietly. His eyes scanned the open areas on either side of them as he sat on Blackjack. "I thought we would find the tracks by now."

Lori stopped her horse a few feet behind him. "Maybe we should rest in the shade for a few hours. It's going to be too hot soon to keep traveling."

Jim pointed to some cacti in the distance. "We can get water from those," he said, nudging his horse forward a few yards further. He stopped at a clump of cacti, each one was wide and covered with thorns, and of various height. A few red flowers were on the taller ones.

"What are you taking about," Lori said, riding forward but still staying back, knowing the body behind her was fast becoming putrid and covered with flies. "You want to eat a cactus? That could be poisonous."

Jim sighed, closing his eyes. He spoke softly, nodding toward the clump. "A cactus is a very valuable plant in the desert. You need to learn about your surroundings, what you can use to survive, what's poisonous and what isn't."

"And how did you learn…" Lori started to ask but stopped as Jim continued to speak.

"That's a barrel cactus or a fish hook," he said, his eyes still shut. "The barbs are curved like a fish hook. That is the only cactus you can get water from; all others are poisonous. But," he paused, swaying slightly in the saddle, "you can't drink a lot from this plant either, it can give you a stomach ache." He opened one eye to peer at her, "better than dying though."

Lori slid from her saddle and walked to the clump of cacti, looking closely at the barbs. "They are hooked," she muttered. She stepped sideways, approaching another cactus, "and these barbs are straight. So it isn't a fish hook?"

"That's a baby Saguaro," Jim said, watching her through his eyelashes. "Look at the barbs of that taller one behind it." Lori walked to the multiple armed Saguaro, leaning closer to study the hooks and smooth sides.

"Interesting," she said, standing straight again. She pulled her hat off and wiped her forehead with her sleeve. "But you didn't say how you learned all this." She turned to watch him, noticing he was leaning to the left, holding his injured side more than he had earlier. "Well let's get some cactus water into you and then you can tell me." She walked back to the clump, pulling her boot knife. "What do I do?"

"Cut the top off and peel the sides down a bit," Jim said slowly. "Cut out a chunk of the insides and wrap it inside your bandanna. When you squeeze, the water will be filtered through the cloth." As he spoke, she began slicing, quickly moving a large section into her sweat-stained handkerchief. "Want me to test it first?" She handed a piece up to him. He held the cloth over his mouth as he tipped his head back. Twisting the cloth, fluid dripped into his open mouth. "Not bad," he said, his voice clearer. He twisted it again, getting a few more drops. He lowered his hands to his lap, sighing. "I think I need to rest for the afternoon. Let's camp nearby, in the shade."

Lori grabbed the bridle of the two horses and walked them to the shade of a thick clump of mesquite nearby. She unhooked the sled and pulled the body into another clump of shade further away. A swarm of flies lifted a few feet as the body moved but quickly resettled when it stopped.

Jim slid slowly from his saddle and quickly sat in the dirt. Lori moved to the cactus and cut away a second chunk. She wrapped it again and walked quickly back to him. "Seconds?"

Jim looked up at her, "You next," he whispered.

"No, you next," she said, waving the bundle at him. "You look like shit and you need water, or whatever this is. You're bleeding again and we don't have any more bandages so we can't clean your wound. And your eye is swollen shut. And I bet your back hurts like hell."

Jim took the cloth and squeezed the moisture again into his mouth. "Your fault my eye hurts." He grinned at her. "I'm fine, I just need to rest. We'll get going later when its cooler. If we can't find the tracks, we will at least know which east is."

Lori stared at him, "well watching the sun, it sets in the west, so we will just head east. Then we need to find the north star after dark."

Jim nodded toward the barrel cacti, "see how the tallest one in each group is leaning? The first one always leans to the southwest."

Lori crossed her arms and glared down at him, "I think you're feverish and have drank too much crazy cactus water. You have cactus on the brain."

"It's true," Jim said, grinning at her. He handed her handkerchief up to her, "thank you," he whispered. He lay down on his back, grimaced, and rolled to his right side. "Wake me later," he muttered.

]

]

"Artemus?" Christian said softly, placing a hand to his forearm.

Artie's eyes followed the two riders as they approached up the main street, one black horse and one white horse, just as he was expecting. He held his greeting to his friend at the last second as he realized it wasn't Jim and Lori. He let out a long say. "Not them," his said, his voice catching.

"They'll be along," Christian said. "I'm sure they're fine. It's just taking longer than we expected. Besides it was only last night." She squeezed his arm. "I bet we will see them before dark. And if not, Jim is good in the desert and Lori is stronger than an average female."

Artie nodded, patting her hand. "Yes, Jim knows how to survive in the desert. He has spent a lot of time out there, especially after the war." They began to walk slowly down the sidewalk, looking at storefronts and at the people passing. Mary skipped happily along next to Christian. Both were dressed in simple dresses that were comfortable in the strong afternoon sun.

"What was he doing in the desert after the war?" Christian asked curiously. "Fighting Indians? I thought he was fond of them and could speak the language. Or some of the languages."

"A little of both," Artie said, "it's a long story but I suppose we have nothing else to do. I can tell you over lunch. That looks like a nice place," he said, nodding toward a restaurant with a checkerboard sign over hear. "The Country Bumpkin." Artie chuckled, "I doubt that they will serve any fancy French dinners but maybe a hearty stew is what we need." He stepped back to hold the door open for them. "And we can relax and escape the heat while the train is fixed. I told the train stationmaster to put on the schedule for ten o'clock tonight but I will cancel if they haven't arrived." He stole another glance down the busy street for a black horse and a rider dressed in blue. Not seeing anyone familiar, he entered the restaurant.

]

]

"I can eat this?" Lori said, her eyebrows twisted with suspicion. She held up a bright pink cactus flower. "If you're trying to poison me or make me eat something that will make me pass out…?"

"That's it," Jim laughed, "I want you to eat something that will cause you to pass out. Why? So I can have my way with you?" He twisted in pain, his left arm hugging his side. "I'm not really in the mood, if you know what I mean." He wiped a sleeve across his sweating face.

Lori nibbled at the flower, grimacing. "I am hungry enough to eat anything but a cactus flower just seems odd."

"I've seen people eat rose petals and other flowers," Jim said. "I guess that's no different." He picked up a flower that she had tossed to him. "I'm not really hungry but I should eat something. We can start out again in another hour or so. I want to go before its dark." He nodded toward the mass of flies on the sled nearby. "Are you still insisting we bring that? Bodies that have been left out in the desert sun are not pleasant travel companions."

"He comes with us," Lori growled, taking a larger bite of the flower. "He's worth money."

Jim stared at her for a minute, "If he is wanted by Colonel Richmond and this Senator for attacking your friend Elizabeth, how can he be worth money? What else is he wanted for that a bond has been set already? Sounds like you still haven't told me the whole sordid tale."

Lori sat back, sipping from her canteen. She set it down and stared back at him. "There are a few parts I haven't told you because this is a need to know business and I didn't think you needed to know."

Jim's eyes glared at her, "when working together, agents share information so that the case progresses and no one gets hurt. Lies cause confusion which usually causes injury and death."

"I haven't lied to you," Lori snapped. Then she sighed, "ok, I guess it won't hurt to tell you more of the beginning of the adventure. When I told you that we didn't like our friend Elizabeth becoming involved with John, it was because we already knew he had done bad things to women in Washington. We also knew he lived in California and traveled back and forth. There was talk that he had been married and his wife came up missing on one of these trips East. I know some police officers that were asking around. In their investigation, they couldn't find the body of the missing wife but they found a woman who had been attacked and beaten by John. We contacted her in a hospital and spoke with her. Apparently John is a mean drunk and likes to hit. The police didn't want to charge him though because the woman worked in a saloon by the docks."

"Wait," Jim said, "John is suspected of killing his wife but there isn't a body. Then he is accused of assault but no charges are pressed? This seems odd to me."

"There are not a lot of laws protecting women," Lori continued, "especially wives. Murder is punished but hitting your wife isn't always considered a crime. And if you hit a prostitute, police don't get involved. But they had their eye on this guy and they wanted him free so they could follow him and get clues about his missing wife. As long as he hung around prostitutes, they didn't care what happened. But then he met Elizabeth, daughter of a Senator."

Jim nodded, "and suddenly the case needs to be wrapped up. He needs to be arrested and taken off the streets. But no new crime has been committed. Since they didn't arrest him on the older crimes, they couldn't pick him up until he did something new."

"And the new crime was assaulting the Senator's daughter and kidnapping the child," Lori said, holding her canteen out as a toast. "And the Senator was upset, understandably, that this guy had been walking the streets. If he had been arrested for assault earlier, his daughter wouldn't be in the hospital and this grandchild missing."

"And," Jim added, "the real prize for Richmond is John's father, leader of the den of thieves with the usual variety of criminal acts. So we have smuggling, money laundering, maybe some counterfeiting? The usual, under the table, quiet money making schemes performed by the father. And then idiot son ruins it with drinking and assaults, getting the attention of the police."

Lori sat back, looking at him, "am I boring you with all this?"

Jim grinned, "I should hand out pre-printed check lists to suspect; it would be so much faster than questioning them. Just check off the boxes of the shit you're doing and call it a day." He sighed, "they all get caught but it's usually a hell of a fight. Which is why we kill so many."

"How many have you killed?" Lori asked quietly.

Jim held her gaze, "I stopped counting a long time ago."

"Do you remember the first one?" Lori's voice was a whisper now.

"No, not really," Jim said, thinking, "though it would have been during the war. There is a lot of shooting in a battle but it isn't hand to hand." He stopped for a minute, "I guess the first real close, hand-to-hand, fight to the death was actually nearby to where we are now." Lori's eyebrows shot up in surprise but she stayed silent. "I was working with an Indian Agent," he said, his voice turning to a growl, "A real bastard. He was provided large sums of Federal money to feed the Indians on the local reservations but was keeping most of it for himself. You know the history? Remove Indians from the East, where the climate is cool, march them, or at least their survivors, out West and restrict them to land that isn't fit for cattle to survive on. And then promise to provide them with food."

"I have read about that," Lori said. "So this Indian agent was stealing Federal money? I wonder if they all did it, to a point, but he was especially greedy and got caught."

"I don't know how prevalent the game was in other areas but some probably did a good job and were interested in preserving the culture," Jim said, "but the guy I was assigned to just kept most of the money for himself. It was obvious when I reviewed his ledgers. He purchased food but not enough and what he did purchase was worm-infested meat, rotten vegetables, and bad water," he grimaced, "They were simply starving. Anyway," he paused, taking a deep breath, "when I wrote a report back to Washington, he was enraged. He lost his position. Then I was instructed to arrest him and drag his sorry ass back. Well he decided he didn't want to accompany me." He stopped again, and then started, his voice lower, "we only traveled until the first night. I had untied him so he could relieve himself and instead, he attacked me with a hidden knife. It wasn't much of a fight but," he paused again, "but he was the first man I killed with a knife. It's more personal than a gun at any distance, even at close range with the shotgun." He took a sip off the canteen. "It wasn't long after that that Grant asked me to join the Secret Service and help build the program."

"So you lived out here with the Indians for a while?" Lori asked. "You said you speak some of the languages."

Jim smiled, still half lost in thought, "it's funny, I can't remember very much French or Italian, or any of those European languages, even after spending so much time with people, but I picked up a few Indian languages easily." He chuckled, "and Artie is just the opposite. I think he is so nervous around Indians he can't pay attention to what they are saying. And he has never spent that much time with them."

"Oh, your brains are made differently," Lori smiled. She nodded toward John's body. "He is the first person I ever killed. I won't be telling me family about it, that's for sure. I was hoping it wouldn't ever come to that."

"I told you they don't come easily," Jim said, "Your first case and your first death." He winked at her. "You know what that means?" She looked up at him, surprised, "you have a 100% death rate." He grinned as she snorted, rolling her eyes. "That's even worse than mine."

]

]

Artemus held little Mary in his arms as they watched the engine back up toward the varnish car. The stable car was already in its usual place, with a new ramp door attached. New metal hinges reflected the pinkish light of the setting sun. The stable car hit the varnish, the great metal hook clanging as the two cars attached. Mary squealed at clapped her hands, bouncing with excitement.

"Back together," Artie said, watching the yard men move around the train. He looked to Christian standing next to him, "and we are scheduled to leave at 10:30 tonight."

Christian squeezed his arm, "they'll be back before then."

Artie took a deep breath, "if not, we can delay it until tomorrow. It's not like…" His voice caught as his eyes looked past her. Down the yard, a dark figure was outlined against the sun setting on the horizon. The figure wore a flat hat and rode a dark horse. Artie stepped sideways to get a better view and immediately saw the white horse behind the dark one. "It's them," he smiled, suddenly weak with relief. "They made it."

Christian turned to look also. "And see, they are both fine," her voice said, though the sentence ended in a question. Jim's figure was twisted oddly in his saddle, almost sitting sideways. His head was up, as he looked at the train, but his shoulders were hunched. "I'm sure it isn't serious," she started to say.

Artie turned and handed the child to her, "why don't you take Mary inside and I will meet them down the yard." As Christian took the child, they both froze, eyes meeting over the toddler's head, "and break out the bandages too, please." He released them and hurried forward as Christian moved quickly into the varnish car.

"Jim?" He hurried forward, grabbing the bridle of the black horse. "Are you alright? Are you shot?" His eyes tore over his partner's body, looking for bullet holes and blood stains.

Jim's eyes lowered, a slow smile coming to his face. "I'm fine, partner." He paused as Artie reached up to grasp his wrist. "Are you all right? You weren't doing so well when I left."

Artie reached up to rub his head, "It fine, I actually forgot about myself waiting for you two." He reached up and pulled Jim's jacket open, gasping at the sight of the dark stains, "you are shot!"

"No, he isn't" Lori said as she nudged her horse forward. "He's just developing some new scars for the office secretaries to gawk at." She smiled as Jim glared at her. "But he does need a few clean bandages." Jim pulled his coat from Artie's grasp, avoiding his gaze.

Artie looked back and forth, between them, and his nose wrinkled. Then he looked behind them at the body on the sled. A blanket of black flies covered the torso and face "Is that John? What the hell happened?" The men working on the train had approached in curiosity but quickly backed away, pulling handkerchiefs over their face as the stench spread across the yard. He stepped between the horses to approach the dead man. "Looks like he gave you some trouble."

"He declined our invitation to return to the train," Jim said, "But Lori insisted." He winked at her as Artie looked back at them. "She says he's worth money. And he better be worth money in this town because he isn't going on that train."

"There's a Federal Marshall's office on the far end of the yard. Hopefully he'll take him," Artie said, backing away from the body. "Luckily," he added, pulling a handkerchief out of his pocket. "You would get arrested for dragging this mess through town." He looked up at Lori and then back to his partner. "You two look terrible. I'm going to send for the doctor for you," he said, cutting Jim's protest off. "And you," he said, looking at Lori, noticing the filth and sweat stuck to her face and clothing, "I think I should dunk you in the nearest water trough before you enter the train and burn your clothes."

Jim snorted, "Make sure she isn't holding that shotgun, partner." Artie gave him a worried look.

Lori laughed, "I'll wash my face and hands on the way back." She nudged her horse and walked forward, the body dragging behind her. As it passed Artie, he quickly stepped sideways, his hands desperately waving at the hoard of flies. "Sorry," she called out, waving back at them. "Don't leave without me either."

"Bring that frame back with you too," Jim called out, grinning. He looked down at his partner, "When do we pull out?"

"At ten thirty tonight," Artie growled, still waving at flies. "This is going to make for a long and interesting story. Let's get you inside and cleaned up."

Cobb was suddenly there, taking Blackjack's bridle. "I have already sent for the doctor," he announced, "and I will get this big fellow watered, brushed, and fed. We'll bring them all back before we go."

Jim slid slowly from the saddle and leaned against the horse, feeling the heat coming off the dark hide. "I don't need a damned doctor," he growled. The he noticed Cobb and Artemus exchange a look over his head, knowing his usual protests would be ignored, as usual. "Just grab my arm and drag me inside," Jim sighed, "maybe if I'm not a mess when he arrives I won't get poked and prodded everywhere."

Artie grabbed his partner's right arm and slowly walked him to the steps of the varnish car.

tbc


	17. Chapter 17 Reuinted

Chapter 15 Reunited

"Ow", Jim hissed, twisting sideways away from the prodding fingers of his partner. "That's sore but it must be healing. It isn't as bad as it was," he said, through clenched teeth.

"The bandage has dried on," Artie said, leaning closer to examine the swollen red skin above and below the filthy strips of cloth. "I bet the blade nicked a rib too, may have a piece of bone floating around in there irritating the skin inside." Jim groaned, "the doctor will have a look at that. He should be here any time." Artie took a pair of shears from the dressing kit and began cutting away the loose cloth. Soon only the section stiff with old blood remained.

Jim tried to straighten his back and winced again. He was sitting sideways on the straight-backed wooden chair in the small bathroom on the varnish car. He had peeled off his filthy clothes and the stench of old sweat mingled with the smell of the bath soaps and shaving creams. The soiled bandage that had been wrapped around his waist had been painful to remove but were not lying on the floor at his feet; except for the one end firmly attached to the dried blood of the knife wound. "The doctor will have to tear that old thing off," Jim murmured tiredly.

Artie snapped his fingers, "I know what you need," he announced. He slapped a hand on his friend's shoulder as he squeezed past him in the small room and moved to the bath faucets. "You need a bath, a good hot soak. Then that section of old bandage would come off easily without damaging the wound. And while you relax you can tell me how it all happened." He turned on the faucets and held a hand under the water, checking the temperature. "Never a shortage for hot water on a train."

"Unless there is a shortage of water," Jim said, smiling tiredly at their old but well-loved joke. "You'll have to pull me out if you put me in there." He closed his eyes and listened to the sound of the water running.

"Don't fall asleep yet," Artie said, gently slipping his arm under Jim's arm on his good side. "Come on, move," he prodded, as Jim stood slowly. He held a steadying hand as Jim stepped over the side of the tub and lowered himself into the water. Bits of sand and plant material immediately began floating on the water's surface.

"Ah," Jim sighed, closing his eyes. He leaned his sore back against the tub's side and winced again but finally relaxed. "This is exactly what I needed. Good idea," he whispered. "I hope Lori doesn't get back too soon and interrupt me. In fact, we could just leave without her and she could catch up later."

Artie pulled the chair closer and sat near the tub, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "And I thought you two would have had some quality bonding time during that romp across the desert." He paused as Jim let out a loud snort. "So, tell me what happened."

"We tracked that bastard all over the damned sand," Jim growled. "We wandered all day and, just before dark, we decided to make camp and lure him in." He stopped to rub handfuls of water onto his face, dislodging more grime. "I didn't think he could have run that far away from the tracks but he seemed to be trying to walk back to his house. He must have known it was near the tracks and angled toward the mountains."

"Maybe he was trying to lose you," Artie suggested.

Jim humphed and pointed toward the washcloths hanging on a nearby wall hook. Artie pulled one off and tossed it to him. Jim picked up a piece of soap off a nearby dish and began rubbing it on his bare chest. "Anyway, I knew he would be hungry since we were. No one had eaten all day because he ran off just before lunch. You had packed a can of beans in the bag which I figured would smell good and draw him in." He shook his head, "I thought he would go for the horses so we tied her's up securely. Of course, he couldn't ride Blackjack anyway," he said, as Artie nodded in agreement. "So I sat up on a bank in the woods and watched over the horses. Lori was by the fire pretending to sleep and my blankets were nearby, making it look like I was sleeping too."

"And," Artie said, "then he came?"

Jim rubbed the washcloth over his face and then around behind his neck, lowering his head down as he washed. "Ya," he said quietly, "Quiet bastard. I never saw him until he was next to her. She had a knife in her hand, under the blankets. She jumped up and surprised him. He reached for the shotgun and she stabbed him in the arm." He dropped his hands into the water, watching the dirt swirl away. "They were in a massive fight by the time I made it down. I grabbed him and pulled him off her but he stabbed me. We all fell back into the fire with me in the coals." He peaked an eye at Artie, through wet eyelashes. "I'll tell you, partner, that hurt."

"I can just imagine, considering the red blisters on your shoulder blades," Artie said, grimacing. "And then? We are working toward the end, here, right?"

"Sorry," Jim grinned. "Somehow she pulled him off me but he punched her in the mouth. She fell back onto her gun. He grabbed the knife again and was coming at her as I was trying to get up to grab him. Then I saw those two barrels come up and I dropped back just as she let them both go. BOOM." He shook his head. "It blasted him back ten feet; right in the gut."

"Yikes," Artie said, "she is something else, all right." He shook his head in disbelief.

"She was damn good too," Jim said slowly. "She never complained about the heat or the dirt. She was a little suspicious of the cactus water and eating the flowers," he chuckled. "But she just wanted to get him." He looked again at Artie, "and she kept thinking I was going to die and you would be mad at her."

Artie raised an eyebrow, "I might have been a little displeased."

Jim grabbed the soap again and twisted a foot closer, rubbing the bar against the bottom of his heel. "So we camped overnight, then rode this morning. We stopped in the shade when it got really hot and started again this evening." He traded feet and soaped the other one, pushing his washcloth between his toes. "I have sand everywhere," he growled. "Where was I?"

"I don't know," Artie laughed, "tell me about the body. She had to bring it back?"

Jim dropped his foot with a splash and looked at his partner, eyes wide with disbelief. "Now she says she's a bounty hunter and she gets money for his body! She isn't a secret service agent any more than your Aunt Maud!" He began scrubbing his arms, irritated.

"Except that Richmond said she was," Artie said, "or they are", rubbing his chin, thinking out loud. "But they get paid for bounties?" He shook his head, "I have no way to guess, we'll just have to ask him when we get back."

"At least you had a quiet time while I was gone," Jim said, "and the train is fixed and we are leaving soon. No more stopping. Straight to Washington!"

Artie sat back, laughing quietly, "well the train is fixed and we are heading back to Washington but we didn't have a quiet time of it. I had a couple of bodies stacked here myself. Christian didn't mention getting money for them though. Maybe she was too upset."

Jim stopped mid stroke, a soapy arm raised out of the water, "what? Bodies? What happened?" His eyes bore into Artie's. "You should have mentioned this earlier."

"Oh, I was going to tell you my sordid tale, but I wanted to hear yours first." He took a deep breath and started, "We had been traveling for a few hours without issue, the open door didn't seem to be bothering the horses, when suddenly, the train stopped. It was dark out by then and I couldn't see well outside. But there was a bright flickering light in front of the train," he paused as Jim growled low in his throat, familiar with the 'fire on the tracks trick'. Artie nodded in agreement, "I could see men outside, near the train's engine, on horseback, all shooting pistols into the air. As they approached the varnish car I could see it was John's men from the alley, where I found Christian and Mary in the city. One was the leader, coming toward the door. So I scooped Mary up and just managed to hide her before he came on board." He nodded toward the hall, "He came in with two other guys. There were two additional men who stayed outside with guns on Cobb. But one real young kid who came in was one of the fellows in the alley that I gassed with the whiskey flask. He didn't recognize me, of course."

"Of course," Jim interrupted, grinning, enjoying the story. He had stopped in his washing to listen, enthralled by his partner's tale of yet another fight on the train.

"I had told Christian to hide," Artie snorted, "The one time she should have disappeared but of course she didn't. The leader and the second guy were itching to shoot me and take her hostage. And they were going to set the train on fire to flush Mary out. Christian tried to convince them that John had taken her with him when he ran but they didn't believe us. So I managed to get to the controls by the couch for the two revolvers. I shot the leader." He paused, looking at Jim. "I wish you had seen what Christian did. I wish I had seen it better."

"What," Jim growled, his eyebrows twisting with suspicion.

"She had crossed her arms as she spoke to them about Mary. I thought she was just standing awkwardly because she was scared," he said, crossing his arms, mimicking her, "but she pulled out two of those knives and threw them right into the man's throat." He pointed his fingers into his neck. "Either side of the windpipe. And it felt like the spine was broken. Killed him instantly." Jim's mouth dropped open and his eyes widened. "He just dropped. And the guy I shot was dead. And the poor third fellow just stood there shaking. He dropped the revolver and immediately starting apologizing."

"What?" Jim said. "This is the craziest Artie story I have heard for years."

"I know," Artie said, "but you haven't heard the end yet." Jim rolled his eyes and leaned forward to dunk his head in the water He swished around and picked it back up again, his hair soaked to his skull. "If you can stay above water for another minute? So, this fellow started talking and he hasn't stopped yet. His name is Tim, he has told me his life's story and his future dreams. And Cobb has adopted him."

Jim stared, the water dripping down his face and off his nose. "His name is Tim and Cobb has adopted him? And at what point has he been put in a jail cell?"

Artie leaned forward, "I thought you might find him useful so I have kept him on the train. He is traveling back to Washington with us." Jim's eyes narrowed and his mouth opened to protest…"And he can decode that ledger book you brought back. I thought he might be more believable when discussing this with Richmond than Mary would be."

Jim nodded, "he can read the ledger?" Artie nodded slowly. "We need to talk to him more. He is with Cobb in the engine?" Artie nodded again. "Well, I guess he can stay but we don't need to keep him," Jim growled. "And when I …"

They both jumped as a fist was pounded on the bathroom door hard enough to rattle the hinges. "Hey, my turn in there! Hurry your ass up or I am going to roll my stinking body on Artie's bed!"

"Well, speak of the devil," Jim sighed, wiping his sore face. "I'll be out in a minute," he hollered back at the door "Go burn your clothes and get in my bed. I'll be there soon."

"Ya, bite me," Lori growled and heavy footsteps were heard moving away.

Artie sighed, "lovely girl. I'm so glad that romp in the desert sun has brought you two closer together," he caught Jim's grin and noticed his partner rubbing his black eye. "so the black eye wasn't from the fight with John?"

Jim laughed, "let's just say she punches harder than you do."

Artie rose from the chair and slapped Jim's shoulder, "I'll go throw food at her but I can only stall her for so long. You better get dressed. Besides the doctor should be here any minute now." He slowly opened the bathroom door and peaked down the hall in both directions. "Cost is clear so…" He jumped as Sophie darted between his boots and into the bathroom. The kitten ran straight to the tub and leaped onto the edge.

"Artie," Jim said, holding a hand out to steady the tiny animal, "I don't have any clothes in here. Go grab something from my room, would ya. If it isn't occupied with crazy women." He patted a wet hand on the kitten, getting the fur samp, "Sophie, you're the only crazy female allowed on my train." The kitten meowed and licked at the water on his fingers.

Artie returned quickly with a deep burgundy robe. He hung it from a hook on the back of the door and leaned over to look at Jim's side. "Is that damned thing still stuck to you? I'd hate to yank it off…"

"Ya, I'd hate that too," Jim growled. He turned, twisting to look at the bloody cloth soaking in the soapy water. He tugged on it gently and his skinned pulled. "Oh to hell with it, here goes," he said, clenching his teeth. "Ow," he said, yanking. The cloth came loose and blood seeped into the water. "Ow," Jim said again, tossing the cloth onto the floor. "That smarts. Maybe I should have soaked it longer."

"No, its fine," Artie said, stepping away. "Water is good to clean it and besides," he said, picking up a towel, "Lori is about done eating and she smells. Bad. She needs to get in here."

"Are you going to help her too?" Jim grinned up as his partner handed him a towel.

"No," Artie said, "she isn't injured." He grinned and shook his head. "I'd help Christian though." He gave his partner a wink as he held out a hand to support him. "Lori is your trouble, not mine."

"That's not fair," Jim said, "Christian is nicer." He picked Sophie up and gently put her on the floor by the tub's claw foot. "Stay out of the way, fuzzy. I'm coming out." He reached out and grasped Artie's forearm and let himself be pulled to his feet. His head spun and he started to stumble.

"Hold still, Jim," Artie said, throwing the towel over Jim's shoulders. "Just stand still for a minute. I should have given you some water to drink while you were sitting in water. We'll put you in your room for a while, the girls will have to share…" a splash sound happened behind Jim's legs and both men turned to look at the water. "I guess someone else wanted to have a bath too!"

"Sophie," Jim said worried, "are you alright?" The kitten paddled around the tub, tiny dark eyes wide with terror. "Artie, you better save her. She could drown."

"She's fine," Artie laughed. He held his partner's slippery arm as Jim stepped over the edge of the tub and sat heavily in the chair again. "Ok, girl," he laughed, turning quickly to scoop the desperate animal out of the water. "You ok," he cooed, holding her to his vest. He patted her wet fur and she sneezed on him. "Oh, don't catch a cold now. Hold on," he said, grabbing a soft hand towel. He slowly gathered the cloth around her and held her to his face. "You ok, sweetheart? You're the only girl that really needs us, you know. We have to take special care of you." The kitten meowed and twisted inside the folds of the towel, trying to chew on his fingers. "Ouch," he cried out, "you have sharp teeth."

"Women," Jim said, as he wiped his face, "pains in the ass, weaklings…" They jumped again as the unseen fist pounded on the door.

"The doctor is here for mister injury," Lori's voice said through the door. "And I am out of food and out of patient. Move your butt and get out of the bathroom!"

Jim sighed and shook his head tiredly. "Artie, tell me we will be in Washington by morning."

Artie handed him the dark red robe, "not tomorrow but soon. I don't see any other difficulties now. Maybe I should have asked for emergency track clearance all the way East."

Jim stood on shaking legs and pulled the long robe around him, gingerly tying the cloth belt around his stomach, wincing as he moved. Artie held out a pair of soft, cotton pants but Jim shook his head no. "Enough clothes, going to bed." He took a step and swayed.

Artie reached out and grabbed his elbow, while still holding Sophie, and walked him to the door. "Lori, could you open the door please? We are all coming out." He waited as the door slowly opened and looked around the edge to see Lori in the hallway. Behind her was an older a man in a dark suit carrying a bag. Lori kept the door open to give Jim privacy as he walked slowly to his bedroom. As they entered, Lori moved quickly into the bathroom, closing the door behind her, and the doctor stepped down the hall to Jim's bedroom doorway.

"Is this the patient?" The man asked while standing in the hall. He smiled and nodded and Artie looked back at him. "I have been told what happened by that delightful young girl. She was certainly full of stories about that encounter in the desert."

Jim sighed as he sat on the edge of the bed. "Some of them might even be true." He slowly lay down as Artie grabbed his feet and moved them onto the bed. Then he gently put the towel holding Sophie on the mattress near Jim's side. The kitten peaked her nose out, the dark eyes seeing Jim, and darted out of the towel to jump against his robe. He patted her wet fur as she curled into a ball, leaning against his chest.

"She said that you two are some sort of Federal police," the doctor said, "Secret police even?" The doctor raised an eyebrow at them. "You won't kidnap me, will you, to prevent me from talking?"

Artie stepped closer to the doctor, "No, sir, not at all," he smiled, holding his hand out to shake hands with the doctor. "I'm Artemus Gordon. This," he said, pointing his thumb over his shoulder, "is your patient, James West. He was stabbed in the side fighting a criminal last evening."

"I am Doctor LaMar," the doctor said, stepping to the bed. "Stabbed last night? So it's been almost twenty-four hours." He put the bag down on the foot of the bed and dug out a square of white cloth. "Cleaning it was an excellent idea. Had the wound been covered with anything while you were in the desert?" He leaned over Jim's side and moved the robe opened. He slowly pulled it off his shoulder and looked at the wound and then leaned over to examine his back, wiping the cloth on the blisters.

"Yes," Artie said, "we carry bandages. It was dried into the wound though so we soaked it for a while and then pulled it off. It's still bleeding some." He nodded toward Jim, "and the blisters were from a fall into the camp fire."

The doctor leaned over, humming to himself as he wiped at the bleeding wound. Suddenly a loud hissing sound was heard and a tiny paw full of sharp claws lashed out at the man's wrist. "Ouch," the doctor said, stepping back, holding a hand over his arm. "A guard cat?" He smiled, chuckling at the kitten. Sophie was standing on the mattress with her back arched, hissing up at him.

"Oh, I'm sorry, sir," Artie said, scooping Sophie up and stepping back. The kitten twisted in his hands, yowling and biting. "Stop, Sophie, be good." He put a hand gently on her head to calm her. "I forgot she tends to guard Jim."

The doctor looked at his wrist with red scratch marks. "I may need a few bandages of my own." He shook his arm and returned to looking at Jim's wound. He muttered, "I have been assaulted by pets before but a kitten guarding a man who lives on a private train is a new one." He chuckled again.

Jim chuckled as he lay on the pillow, a slow smile creeping to his face. "Doctor," he whispered.

"Yes, young man," the doctor said, pausing.

Jim took a deep breath and whispered, "did the young lady need any medical help? I think she was injured in the face. Don't let her scare you away if she needs something done."

The doctor chuckled again, "she did seem to be an usual young lady, and not just in the clothing. And I did attempt to treat her injury, which was a split lip. She only let me look at it but I gave her a cream to apply after she is cleaner." He sighed, moving back to his bag, "I have never seen a woman be that filthy and that beautiful at the same time. She reminded me of a wild mustang."

Artie and Jim exchanged a tired look. "Yes, I guess she is," Jim said slowly. "Gorgeous but still bites and kicks. She cleans up well though."

"You should see Christian," Artie said, "I actually talked her into wearing a dress." Jim grinned, his eyes shutting tiredly.

Dr LaMar stepped back to Jim's side and shook a jar over the wound, covering the skin with a white powder. He leaned farther over to dust more onto Jim's back and shoulders. He turned to Artie, "I will leave you this bottle. Put this on the skin three times a day and cover with a clean bandage. You have more bandages?" Artie nodded. The doctor placed a clean square over the wound and then wrapped another length around Jim's waist, holding the bandage firmly in place. He laid a second larger square bandage over Jim's shoulders and pulled the robe back up. He placed a gentle hand on Jim's wrist, leaning closer to watch him for a moment. "I won't tell you to rest, young man, since you are almost asleep now." He moved back to the bag, closing it, and picked it up.

"Thank you," Jim whispered, his eyes still shut.

"You're welcome," Dr. LaMar said, moving to the hallway. Artie quickly placed Sophie on the bed again and followed the doctor out.

Jim patted Sophie's fur as she moved to her usual spot against his chest, rolling into a ball and purring contentedly. "You're my favorite girl," Jim said quietly, his eyes still shut.

The bedroom door opened slowly and Lori walked in, quietly moving to the bed. She was dressed in one of Jim's blue button-up shirts and a pair of his cotton pants. Her wet hair was wrapped in a bath towel. "Are you awake?" She asked softly.

"No," Jim said, not moving. "Why?"

"Because I'm sleeping here too and I didn't want to wake you up," she whispered, pulling back the blankets. She laid on top of the bed sheet and pulled the blanket up, lying on the pillow behind his back.

Jim twisted around and looked at the sheet tucked underneath her. "You think that bed sheet is a protective shield?" He grinned at her tiredly. "You can get under the sheet too. I'm not going to bother you. One black eye is enough for this trip."

"I'm fine," Lori said, her voice slowly with sleep. "And I wouldn't want Artie to get the wrong idea about us. So you just stay over there and I won't bother you either."

Jim turned back to the kitten, muttering, "I'm stuck in here with a crazy woman." Sophie cuddled closer, not interested in his observation, but behind his back, Lori smiled.

tbc


	18. Chapter 18 Home Again

Chapter 18 – Home Again, Home Again

Jim woke slowly, feeling hands in his hair, pulling, rubbing his scalp. He sighed, half dreaming about the blond who had fallen asleep in his bed. She must have changed his mind about how she felt; he smiled, like they always do. He moved his head slightly, enjoying the feeling of her fingers, when suddenly his scalp shot with stabs of pain as if from sharp needles. He cringed and twisted away, looking around. He blinked as he saw Sophie standing on his pillow, her tiny claws embedded into the cotton pillowcase.

"Sophie", he growled, as the kitten stretched out a paw, claws extended, toward his hair. "Stop," he sighed, reaching a hand up to his head. He gathered the fuzzy creature and held her against his chest. He looked over to Lori, remembering his dream, and saw she was awake, watching him. "I thought it was you running fingers through my hair," he said, smiling to her.

The girl snorted, "only in your dreams, mister," she said, her eyes closing sleepily.

Jim watched her for another minute and took a deep breath, "look, maybe it's none of my business or too personal of a question," he said pausing before pushing on, "but do you not like men? In general? Some women don't so I don't want to be judgmental, I was just…"

"What?" Lori said, raising an eyebrow at him.

"Well," Jim said, "you and Christian seem pretty close and …"

"And so do you and Artie," she laughed. "Two unmarried men, thirties, living in a fancy train with a pet cat?"

"Hey," Jim growled, "that isn't funny, don't even hint at that." He shuddered. "We obviously like women, if you haven't heard or noticed. I'm not saying anything about how other people live, but no, not here."

"Well maybe you're switch hitters," Lori laughed, turning onto her side, leaning her head on a hand. "But yes, I have not only heard stories about you but seen the disasters you leave behind. Though I am sure it's not your fault with your perfect hair and blue eyes, mysterious job…" She paused as Jim turned on his side to face her, putting the kitten on the mattress between them. The bed sheet pulled off his shoulder to his waist, still pinned underneath her. "I can imagine your whole persona is too much for most women you meet."

"I don't usually get complaints until I arrest them," he grinned, patting Sophie's belly as the kitten rolled to her back. The four paws, claws extended, snagged the back of his hand and wrist. "So why are you so immune to my charms?" He winked and then laughed as she rolled her eyes. "Seriously, you could be nicer."

"Look," Lori said, meeting his gaze. "When I was asked to do this job, early on, I was not only warned about you by Colonel Richmond but I saw the insanity you cause in the secretaries' office. You know how they all work together in that little room downstairs, tapping on their typewriters, typing out the reports agents write?"

"Been there," Jim said slowly, looking worried, "I cause insanity?"

Lori leaned closer, rubbing a finger on Sophie's forehead, whispering, "The last time I was there, to file some paperwork with Herb, their boss, the ladies were crying and yelling. I asked one what was wrong," she paused, her eyebrows twisted as she was thinking, "I think it was Marlita, the nice lady from Montreal. Anyway, Laura and Malinda were having a terrible argument about you. Melinda was saying how she had been out with you the previous evening, dinner and dancing. But when Laura said she was going out with you that night, Marlita said you were leaving on the train that afternoon. I hadn't even met with Colonel Richmond yet and the office ladies knew the plans! Anyway, Laura started crying and yelling about how she never gets to see you." Jim squeezed his eyes shut and opened his mouth to speak, "oh, wait, it gets even better," she said, "Marlita told Laura to stop crying and said 'Besides, he told me he would give me a tour of the city and he never did'. So she was upset too." Jim turned his face into his pillow and groaned, as she continued, "and then Herb comes out of his office yelling about how he never wanted to hear your name spoken again unless it was work related." She giggled, "So, mister James West, I am not going to get in the middle of all this. You have dates backed up for a month or more."

Jim looked back to her, "I feel terrible. I did promise to take Marlita around town and I thought Laura would understand if I had to leave. I come and go all the time." He let out a long sigh, "but that doesn't change today, here and now? The craziness is over so let's relax, get to know each other…"

"No," Lori said, "let's just get breakfast. I smell coffee and something…"

"It's just porridge," Jim interrupted, "Artie is cooking for little Mary. I don't get up until I smell sausage or bacon or ham or something serious. And what do you mean No? We could pass the time in enjoyable ways. Like I said, I haven't gotten any complaints." He reached a hand out to her and froze at her look. "You're a cold fish," he sighed, moving his hand back.

"I've had enough of men recently to last me a long while," she groaned, rolling onto her back. "You aren't the only handsome man I've been near in my life but beyond dinner, going to the theater," she shut her eyes, "it's just not happening. Not right now."

Jim leaned back to look at her, his eyes admiring the thick blond hair, looking down her wide forehead and slightly upturned nose, her red lips and curved throat. His eyes moved to the smooth skin of her chest and the rise of her breasts at the open neck of his blue shirt she wore. He suddenly cleared his throat and shifted under the thin sheet. "Well don't wait too long," he said softly. "But we do have a few days to get back." He ginned at her as she turned an angry look at him again. "How old are you, anyway?"

"What did you just ask me?" Lori snapped, leaning toward him again, her pale eyes snapping with anger, "how old I am? Maybe you would like to know how much I weigh too!" Sophie jumped to her feet and scrambled to hide under Jim's neck as he recoiled back from her. Lori rolled away, tossing blankets onto the bed as she rolled to her feet. "Forget it, just forget it!" She stormed from the room and slammed the door.

"Wowzer," Jim said, laughing. He sat up and looked down at Sophie as the kitten curled into a ball, her tiny black eyes looking worriedly at the closed door. "You females sure are a lot of trouble." He patted the kitten's head as a soft knock was heard at the door. "If this is my partner, you may enter." He grinned as Artie stepped quickly into the room.

"What the hell did you do to her?" Artie asked, looking around the small room.

Jim snorted, swinging his feet to the floor. "I asked one personal question too many."

"It's that investigative streak in you," Artie said, leaning his back against the now closed door. "How are you feeling? I thought I would put the medicine on your wounds and see if you need breakfast brought in."

"I don't need breakfast in bed," Jim said, twisting his back slowly. "It feels better than it did so it must be healing. Toss some of that mystery powder on me and lead me to food before Lori eats it all. Then I want to talk to this young guy we are transporting back to Washington." He paused, leaning forward as Artie slowly peeled the bandage off his back and started sprinkling the medicine on. "I wonder if Tim is worth money. We better keep him away from Lori."

"You'll have to control her," Artie said, "she scares me. Christian may be deadly but at least she's pleasant. Lori seems to have a streak of anger a mile wide." He placed another bandage on his back and shoved Jim's shoulder, pushing him over slowly. He pulled off the second bandage and dusted the powder on his side.

Jim snorted, "yes, Christian would stab you in the back while kissing you and batting her eyelashes." He winced as Artie suddenly snugged the bandage tighter. "Lori said she just had a bad experience with a man," Jim said softly. "Maybe we are just catching her at a bad time. And this trip must have been stressful."

"A bad experience, huh," Artie scoffed, "and what would that be? Shot the wrong guy? She was cheated out of money?" He wrapped another bandage around his partner's waist and tied the ends. Standing to stretch his back, he added, "and you should see the stack of money out on the table. She got paid for John, the head guy, and the two that were killed on the train."

"Business is good," Jim laughed, "she can buy another box of shotgun shells when she gets home. Toss me my pants, will ya? I need to get out there before those girls eat all our food." Artie helped Jim dress and they moved toward breakfast.

[

]

Tim stuck the pencil in his mouth, wetting the tip, and began to slowly write on the paper. His head bent low as he worked at the table. Jim's gaze moved over the young man to his partner. Artie sat across the room at the desk. Christian and Lori sat on either side, also writing quietly on notepads.

"I think this will be acceptable," Jim said to Tim, picking up other papers on the tablecloth. He formed a neat stack in front of him and looked again at the young man's work. "And you are willing to speak to the authorities, right? You're not going to disappear on me when we reach the city?"

"Oh, no, sir," Time muttered, sticking the pencil in his mouth again. "I wouldn't do that. But I am curious to see such a big city. Mr. Cobb has been telling me how big the train yard is and all the different kinds of trains. I just can't wait to see it all."

Jim grinned behind a hand, rolling his eyes at Artie across the room. "Yes, well the train yards are very popular with tourists. It will be full of people from all over the country." He winked as Artie grinned at him.

"Ok," Lori said, sitting up. "I have a message figured out." She held her paper up and stuck a pencil behind her ear. Looking at Artie, she reached across the desk to the telegraph key. Artie took a deep breath and nodded. She started to tap the key, short clicks with short and long pauses, as Artie scribbled his own notes.

"Do it once more," Artie said quietly, keeping his eyes on his note pad. The key clacked again and he scribbled more notes.

"Well," Lori prompted, "can you understand what I was saying?" She smiled, her eyes darting from his face to his notes. "Should I do it again?"

Artie chuckled, tossing the paper on the desk. "I'm not sure this will work. I don't think we need to teach you the Morris code until we teach you how to spell. I have no idea what you are writing. This is based on letters spelling a word."

"Oh, it can't be that bad," Lori snapped, picking up his notes. Christian smiled from the other side of him, her own pencil hovering over a notepad. Artie leaned back, rubbing his hands over his face, as Lori squinted at his writing. "What did you write down? This isn't what I said at all."

"Yes, that's the problem," Artie said, with a long sigh. "That is what you said. It's like you spell in Frontier Gibberish. You have to learn to spell correctly. Did you even go to a school when you were a child? Didn't they have schools by this farm you lived on?"

Lori tossed the note pad back down, "yes, we have schools, mister city boy. But no one ever worried about how to only spell a word one way. There can be lots of ways to spell the same word." Artie moaned and dropped his forehead on his arms, leaning on the desk between the girls. "Oh, you are the worst overly dramatic person I have ever met. You're worse than my mother." She turned a pale gaze at Jim, "your partner should go back to the theater."

"Don't encourage him," Jim said, standing. He turned to the shelf behind him and picked up a thick, hard cover book. He walked across the room to Lori and dropped the book on the table by Artie's head. He leaned over to look Lori in the eye, fighting to keep from smiling, knowing his dimples were giving it away. "This is a dictionary," he said, in a low voice. "It has all the words you commonly use spelled out so you can look each word up before you send the next message. And stop tormenting Artie." He poked a finger onto his friend's shoulder, "Come on, partner, this was your idea. I know it's been a couple days but don't give up yet. She'll look up her words from now on."

Artie slowly pushed himself back up and ran fingers though his dark hair. "Why don't you work on that last message now that you have the dictionary? I should have thought of that yesterday so you could have been using it."

"Oh, I bet there are words I commonly use that aren't in this book," Lori growled, picking it up. She leaned over her work again as Artie turned to Christian.

"And how about you," he asked, "want to give it a try?" He winked at her as he pushed the telegraph key closer. The dark haired girl took a deep breath and reached out a long, slender finger to type delicately at the keys, her eyes glued to the paper in front of her. Artie looked up at Jim as they both listened intently. When she was done, Jim let out a long sigh, shaking his head. "I know," Artie said, "we only have one dictionary on board."

"Maybe we can trade that book on cloud structure for a second one," Jim laughed, turning back to the table to watch Tim for a moment. Seeing that he was still writing, he moved to the chairs along the windows and joined Mary as she watched outside. The sun was setting and the trees were tinted a soft pink color as the train raced along. "And how are you doing this evening?"

The girl turned her eyes to his, "is it true? Will I see my Mother tomorrow?"

Jim reached out to squeeze her small wrist, "you will. We'll just be a few more hours. We should arrive in the night." He nodded toward the window, "you can already see a lot more houses now, right? We are getting very close to the city now."

"Can we ride the train into town?" Mary asked excitedly. "The tracks run near my house and I could walk home!"

Jim grinned at her, "no, we are going to stop in the big train yards and park in our usual spot. Then we will have a fancy carriage come to take you home. I even bet your mother will come to the train to get you."

"Oh, that would be perfect," the girl squealed, hugging her self. "I could show her the train and Sophie too." The girl jumped from the chair and skipped to the couch, leaning over to peek underneath the back. "Sophie? Sophie!" She reached underneath and pulled out the grey kitten, hugging it to her chest. "I'm almost home, Sophie, aren't you happy for me?" The kitten wiggled out of the child's arms and hit the floor with a thud, landing on her feet. She scampered to Jim's feet, racing underneath his chair.

"Come here, fluffy," Jim said, reaching down to pick up the kitten. He patted her fur and held her to his chest as Mary stood watching.

"She really does like you best," the child said, her eyes watering. "I was going to ask you if I could take her home with me but she is yours. She would rather be with you."

"Oh," Jim said, smiling at the girl. "Well, she just get's scared when there's so many people around. She likes it better when it's quiet." He smoothed the soft fur, calming it. "But I'll tell you what. You can sleep in my big bed tonight with Sophie and when you wake up, your mother will be here. And you can show her Sophie. Deal?"

"Deal," the girl said, nodding. She yawned and stepped to his knee, reaching out to pat her. "I have a big dog at my house that would probably chase her anyway." She yawned again and Christian rose quietly and moved to her side.

"Time to get you cleaned up," she said. "Sophie can join you when you are in bed, ok?" Mary nodded and they walked out of the room, making their way to the bathrooms.

"Well, Sophie," Jim said, hugging the kitten as he walked back to the table. "I guess you can keep living here with us." He nodded to Tim as the young man rose from his chair. "Let's meet in the morning. We will want to have you speak to our Colonel first thing." Tim nodded and moved to the swinging doors. Jim followed him down the hallway as to the back door. "Tell Cob we'll all meet outside as soon as he parks in the yards." He smacked the young man on the back as he left the varnish car. Jim shut the door and locked it. Turning, he braced himself as Mary, now in her long nightdress, ran down the hall to him.

"I will miss you and Sophie," she said, hugging his thigh, "and Artie too."

Jim leaned over to pat her head and hug her awkwardly. "You will be so excited to see your Mother, you won't miss us." The girl stepped back, wiping her eyes. "Besides, I bet I will see you again in the city. I work there, you know." He bent on one knee, still holding the kitten. "And you can come visit Sophie too, ok?" The girl nodded and walked slowly into his room with Christian. "Good night," he said, standing in the doorway to watch her climb into bed. "Would you like Sophie to stay with you now?" The girl held her arms out and he stepped forward, handing the kitten to her. "Stay in here, Sophie."

"You can sleep with me one last time," Mary said, kissing the kitten's face. Sophie meowed and then crawled underneath the blankets. Christian leaned down to tuck the girl into the bed as Jim moved back to the hallway.

]

[

Early morning…

]

The distant lights of the city moved past slowly as the train rolled behind closed businesses and dark homes. The warm breeze blew Jim's hair as he relaxed on the back of the train, on the outside platform. His back rested on the closed formal door and his legs stretched out in front of him with his boots hooked onto the bottom edge of the ornate frame railing. "I knew I could get you to spend the night with me before this was over." He turned to wink at the blond sitting next to him.

"You're a twit," Lori whispered, grinning. She was leaning back against the back wall of the car, next to him, with her eyes closed, only half awake. "And don't even think of saying that to anyone at headquarters." She opened her eyes to glare at him and then turned to watch the view.

"I don't kiss and tell," Jim laughed, watching her. "Or make up stories about women. What happens on the train, stays on the train, even when nothing happens." He looked out at the passing buildings. "Your first case outside of the city was successful but your death rate is higher than mine."

"What?" She said, turning again to glare at him. "My death rate?"

"You killed the leader of the gang on your first case," Jim said, hands out, feigning surprise. "One case, one death; sounds like a 100 % death rate to me. That's even higher than mine." He tsked tsked at her, "and, come to think of it, so does Christian. Terrible," he groaned. "I didn't kill a single person on this entire trip." Lori's eyes narrowed in anger. "Well you'll probably be too depressed to continue with this line of work anyway. Maybe there is a nice job in the office you would rather do, maybe work with Melinda and the other ladies. Something safe but you can still feel involved."

"Actually," Lori said, holding his stare, "I was thinking of doing some teaching."

"Now that's a good career for a young woman," Jim nodded, "a teacher of small children and …"

"I was thinking of teaching young women self-defense," Lori interrupted. "I saw an unused room in the basement of the headquarters building, near the men's gymnasium," she paused, tipping her head to one side, "which, of course, needs to be a gym all agents can use, not just the men, but that's another day. Anyway," she continued, as Jim started to protest, "I could have classes in this room, teach hand to hand combat, to keep women safe on dates with over excited men. Maybe even teach married women to fight off abusive husbands. Don't you think that would be important work?"

Jim stared at her for a moment, "sure, why not," he said, his mouth a firm line, "As long as you don't keep pretending to be an agent or bounty hunter."

"Oh, I think I can find time to do all three activities," she smiled. "Think of the money I would make. I may rent a larger place in the city."

Jim took a deep breath, "so it sounds like I will be seeing you around when I come to Washington, at least at headquarters." He tipped his head toward the door, "and it looks like your partner will be hanging around my partner."

"Oh, those two are adorable," Lori said, "don't make it negative or weird."

Jim laughed as the train slowed. Metal clanked ahead of the engine and men's voices were shouting. The train started again, moving off to the right at a wide angle. "Well, here we are, home again, home again." He stood and held his hand down to her. Lori grasped his wrist as his fingers tightened on hers and allowed him to pull her up.

A man swinging a large lantern walked to the back of the train. "Welcome back, West," a loud voice boomed out. "Your spot is empty but we need to move some equipment out of the way. You'll be parked soon." Jim nodded and the man walked off into the darkness.

"You really live out here in the train yard?" Lori asked, leaning to the side to look down the tracks ahead. Men moved behind the train, moving the switch back in place. "Looks busy and noisy."

"It's a happening place," Jim said, his eyes closely watching the switchmen. "Safe most of the time, with all these people around working all night. And it's quieter where we finally stop, farther in the back of the yard. There is even a field for the horses to graze." He grinned at her, "we call it home." He nodded toward the door again, "Can I make you a cup of coffee? I think the love birds are still on the couch but if we're noisy we can wake them and get Artie to cook us breakfast."

"Maybe I'll cook breakfast while you make coffee," Lori said, standing back to let Jim open the door.

"That combination should make him happy," Jim chuckled under his breath. As they entered, Jim looked toward the couch. Artemus was leaning back into the cushions with Christian sitting against him resting her head against his chest. "Rise and shine you two, we're home," he said, smacking his partner's shoulder. Artie jumped in surprise, his eyes popping open. Christian let out a low groan and didn't move.

"Oh, thanks, Jim," Artie said, setting back again, his arms wrapping around the girl's slim waist. "Now go away until the sun shines. I'm not cooking yet."

Jim grinned and walked past, "don't worry, Lori and I are cooking breakfast this morning."

"Oh, joy," Artie muttered, leaning down to put his face in the black curls of hair. "Good morning," he whispered. "I can't say I'm happy about seeing this morning arrive. But I imagine you want to go home."

"You probably want your train back," Christian whispered. "Jim certainly does."

"I will get to see you again, wont I?" He leaned over to look her in the eyes. "dinner tonight?"

She stifled a yawn and giggled, "dinner tomorrow night. I think I will need to catch up on my beauty sleep."

"I will only agree to your terms if you tell me where you live so I don't have to spend an entire day searching for you," he said, looking down into her blue eyes.

"Maybe," she smiled. She pulled his face down to hers, kissing him.

]

[

The End

Epilogue….or is the start of the next story?

]

[

"Damn, Jim," Steve yelped, as he stood in the doorway of the varnish car. Artie was pushing past him through the swinging doors into the main room, carrying a pot of coffee and a handful of mugs. Steve had a large bowl of fried potatoes and sausages in both hands, an elbow holding the door out of his way. He laughed again as Jim turned to face him. "Are you trying to impress us? It's not working!"

"Very funny," Jim snapped, his voice muffled by the towel over his head. His hands rubbed his hair with the towel as he stood in the hallway, stark naked. "Something you need to ask about?"

Artie looked over his shoulder and shook his head, rolling his eyes. "Ignore him, Steve, it just makes him worse." He walked into the varnish car and put the pot on the table. Steve followed close behind with the bowl. "He's just celebrating the train being free of women."

"Damn right I am," Jim said stepping through the doors into the main room. He stood on the carpet wiping water off his chest and arms, pausing to shake his wet hair, throwing water onto the wall near his shoulder.

"Hey, put some clothes on and stop throwing water on my barometer," Artie said, laughing at his partner. "We don't need to see everything at breakfast."

"It's my train and I can eat butt naked if I want to," Jim grinned, punching Steve in his shoulder as he walked past him. "And it's a relief to finally have our train to ourselves again. God, I hope it's a while before they come back here, even for just a romantic date." He wrapped the bath towel around his waist and sat down in a chair. Reaching for a cup, he waited for Artie to pour coffee into it. Turning to his other side, he looked at Jeremy sitting at his elbow. "Jer, you're quiet this morning."

"Just enjoying the relaxed comraderie," the older agent said, sipping at his cup, "and waiting to hear the details of this latest trip. Did you catch and/or kill all the bad guys?"

"To hell with the bad guys," Steve said, leaning closer to Jim, "tell us about the two women you were assigned to work with. Are they really agents? Did they look like women?"

"We still have reservations about the agent part," Jim growled, setting his cup down, "but what was the last question? Did they look like women?" He raised an eyebrow at Artie.

"Ya," Steve said, "you know." He moved his hands through the air making the shape of an hour glass. "You know, did they look like women? Or were they big like men? I have seen some women bigger than me and with mustaches and huge muscles…"he paused as Artie choked on coffee. "Well, no one has seen them at headquarters except Malinda and the gang of office girls, so no one knows what they look like. And you know it's impossible to get information from them."

"Melinda is pretty tight with secrets," Jim growled," since its part of her work to type all the confidential handwritten reports into files." He looked at Artie, who was wiping tears from his eyes, still coughing his hot drink into a napkin. "But I thought they looked like women. Artie got a lot closer look than I did though." He grinned at his partner, "what do you think? Did they look like women?" Everyone laughed as Artie nodded.

"Yes, I thought they looked like women," Artie finally said, still clearing his throat, "Both of them, though I did see one much more closely. They didn't act like any women I have ever known before. I thought they were fascinating. Crazy. Full of surprises."

"So if I saw them at headquarters, what do they look like?" Steve said.

"They both wear pants," Jim said, pausing to rub his chin in thought. "But Lori said she had been to the office to see Herb. She couldn't have been wearing pants that day or I would have heard about it. Someone would have said something. She must have been wearing a dress that day."

"They wore pants the entire trip?" Steve asked, shocked.

Artie grinned, "I got one in a dress since we went into a town. It's illegal to dress out of your gender in many small towns and cities, even here in Washington." He winked at Jim, "I have to be careful about such laws with my disguises, you know."

"If you ever get arrested for being caught dressed out of your gender," Jim growled over the rim of his cup, "I am not bailing you out. In fact, I would probably leave you in jail for a long time."

"I'll keep that in mind," Artie laughed, picking up the bowl of sausages. "So, tell us what we missed while we were gone. What's everyone doing? Are you two on a case?"

Jeremy sipped his coffee, winking across the table at his young partner, "Steve and I have been hanging around the docks trying to find out information on a sailing ship that just arrived. We think it's been dropping off foreigners in other ports. Not sure why yet. It just arrived last night and we thought we might sneak on board."

"Need any help?" Jim asked. "I could use some time off this train, have an evening out with some pleasant barmaids. Maybe we can work separate establishments, do some listening for you."

"Another set of ears would be good, Jim," Jeremy said, setting his mug down. "You might not want to ask Colonel Richmond. Just act like you are relaxing for a night on the town."

"For a change," Artie said, "we don't ever sit still very long. Unless," he said, leaning closer, his dark eyes twinkling with an idea. When he had everyone's attention, he said, "if we tell Colonel we are having the train cleaned, which it needs after the dead bodies have been stacked up around here," Jeremy and Steve exchanged a look, "anyway, it would give us a few days. We usually stay at the Capitol hotel."

"That would work," Jim said, "and I bet Cobb would like to work on the engine. I think our case is wrapped up now. We brought Tim in this morning to meet with Richmond and he left him there. Cobb is upset but I am sure the young man will be released soon and reappear. It didn't sound like he did anything too serious and he seems to want to help." He took a long breath, "he was busy deciphering the ledger book. The old man is still on the run but someone will collect him soon. Colonel Richmond didn't seem to have anything pressing for us to do so I think we are free for a few days, at least."

"So shall we meet tonight?" Jeremy set his cup down and winked at Jim, "I was going to suggest you dress for the occasion, James, but you might get more questions answered if you go in your towel."

The group laughed as Jim chuckled, "I might forget what I went there for once the barmaids come running." He held out a plate toward Artie, "let's eat and then you can fill us in on the details." He grinned as his partner, "aren't you glad she said no to a date tonight? You get to hang out in a bar with me instead. Maybe we'll even get into a good fight."

Artie plopped a spoonful of sausage and potatoes on Jim's plate. "Oh, ya, that's what I was hoping for. Getting socked in the mouth, beer spilled on me, hanging out with you…again…instead of being with her." He snorted as Jim laughed. "But it's only for tonight. She and I have a date for tomorrow night and I'm not missing it for anything." He waved the sticky spoon at his friend. "Remember that. Not. For. Anything."

"And I need to take Marlita and Laura out too," Jim held his hands out, "besides what could happen?" Artie groaned.

tbc


End file.
